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Full text of "Candide, and other romances. Translated by Richard Aldington, with an introd. and notes. Illustrated by Norman Tealby"

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Translated by H. I. Woolf and Wilfrid Jackson, 

with an Introduction and Notes by H. I. Woolf 

and Illustrations by Henry Keen. 



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IN November 1755 a great earthquake occurred in 
Portugal and Spain. The town of Lisbon suffered 
heavily and about fifteen thousand people perished. 
Many of the Protestant clergy in northern Europe 
asserted that the earthquake happened because the 
people of Lisbon were Roman Catholics. The clergy 
of Lisbon, on the other hand, felt that the shock was 
the result of divine anger at the presence of certain 
Protestants in the town ; heretics were therefore forcibly 
baptised, and an auto-da-fi was held, with a view to 
preventing any more earthquakes. A different train of 
thought was set up by this calamity in the mind of M. de 
Voltaire, who was then living in Switzerland at his house 
called '* Les D^lices." 

The first trace of the Lisbon earthquake in Voltaire's 
works occurs in his correspondence. In a letter to 
M. Bertrand, dated the 28th November, Voltaire says : 

** We have the sad confirmation of the disaster at 
Lisbon and twenty other towns. It is a serious matter. 
If Pope had been at Lisbon would he have dared to say 
that All is well ? " ^ 

Two days later in a letter to the same person he says : 

^ " All that is, is right." Essay on Man. 


" You have heard of the horrible event at Lisbon. 
. . . The town swallowed up in an earthquake, a hundred 
thousand souls buried in the ruins, Seville damaged, 
Cadiz submerged . . . here is a terrible argument 
against Optimism. In the midst of such terrible events 
it is shameful to think of one's own affairs." 

Several letters in late November and early December 
contain similar remarks, almost invariably with a remark 
to the effect that the doctrines of " All is for the best " 
and '* Optimism " are disproved. As Voltaire saw the 
situation, a very pretty quarrel in philosophy and theology 
was involved. Of course, in such important subjects 
an earthquake is the merest argumentum ad hominem^ easily 
brushed aside as irrelevant, especially when the philoso- 
pher or the theologian is not personally affected. But 
Voltaire was never above accepting an argumentum ad 
hominem of this respectable force and in most of his 
ethical and quasi-philosophical skirmishes he liked to 
make theories in which the appearances seemed to be 
saved. He had certainly expressed very strong opposi- 
tion to the theory of Optimism before the Lisbon earth- 
quake,^ but that calamity seemed to him a striking 
refutation of the theory and he determined to exploit it. 
The immediate result was the poem, Le Desastre de Lisbon^ 
published with a preface and elaborate notes in 1756. 

At this point we must glance at the Theory of Optimism 
or ** All is for the best." Leibnitz in Germany, Shaftes- 
bury and Pope in England, had given currency to 
optimistic views. According to Leibnitz, God is the 
perfect monad ; He created a world to show His per- 
fection ; He chose this out of an infinite number of 
worlds ; He was guided by the ** principium melioris " 
and therefore this world is the best of all possible worlds. 
Shaftesbury believed in " one God whose most character- 
istic attribute is universal benevolence, in the moral 

^ See Memnon^ for insunce. 


government of the universe, and in a future state of man 
making up for the imperfections and repairing the 
inequalities of the present life." Shaftesbury's views 
were made widely popular by Pope's Essay on Man, 
from which the following well-known lines are taken : 

" Cease then, nor order Imperfection name : 
Our f roper bliss depends on what toe blame. 
Know thy own point : This kind, this due degree 
Of blindness, weakness, Heax/n bestow on thee. 
Submit. In this, or any other sphere. 
Secure to he as blest as thou canst bear : 
Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow'r, 
Or in the natal or the mortal hour. 
All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee ; 
All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see ; 
All Discord, Harmony, not understood ; 
All partial Evil, universal Good : 
And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason^ s spite. 
One truth is clear, whatever is, is right." ^ 

Upon this passage Bishop Warburton provides the 
following gloss : 

"... Nature being neither a blind chain of Causes 
and Effects, nor yet the fortuitous result of wandering 
atoms, but the wonderful Art and Direction of the all- 
wise, all-good, and free Being ; whatever is, is right, 
with regard to the Disposition of God, and its ultimate 

The philosopher, the politician, the poet and the 
bishop all make large assumptions and, in spite of some 
artful qualifications which will not have escaped the 
reader's eye, involve themselves in the perplexities of 
the problem, of moral and physical evil.^ Their deity is 
anthropomorphic, their universe is anthropocentric. If 

1 Essay on Man, Epistle I, lines 281-94. 

^ See Mandeville's FahU of the Bees for an early refutation of Shaftes- 


their deity is all-powerful and all-good and perfectly 
free, how do they explain the presence of moral and 
physical evil ? Some might be satisfied with the explana- 
tion that it was really not evil at all, and that everything 
in the long run is made for good. '* Whatever is, is 
right." Others might reject this explanation and feel 
that so many difficulties arise that the wisest course is to 
abandon these grandiose theories altogether. An uni- 
versal calamity like the Lisbon earthquake is a knock- 
down blow to the assertion that '* whatever is, is right." 
At least, that was the view of M. de Voltaire and so he 
penned his poem on the Desastre de Lisbon, The 
publication of the poem provoked the famous Lettre d 
M. de Voltaire of J. J. Rousseau, and the counter-attack 
upon Rousseau, Leibnitz and Shaftesbury was Candide, 

The whole debate seems unnecessarily confused by 
the fact that Voltaire does not distinguish between a 
supernatural and a scientific explanation of the universe ; 
nor does he distinguish between " good and evil " as 
absolutes and as relatives. He was trying to think 
scientifically with a mind which, for all its alertness and 
clarity, was still encumbered with theology. If a super- 
natural view is adopted, then this is a matter of faith, 
and discussion is a waste of time, as Rousseau pointed 
out very cogently in his letter. Moreover, as Rousseau 
also remarks, nobody denies that the individual may 
suffer (/.<?. he admits relative evil), but who is to say 
whether this '* evil ** is not necessary to the existence of 
the universe, and, hence, whether particular " evils " 
may not form the general " good " } Both combatants 
were in a sense right, as generally happens in disputes, 
Voltaire was certainly right in asserting that men here and 
now do suflfer, and therefore, from their point of view, 
** evil " does exist. But Rousseau nipped the Sage in a 
pretty dilemma by hinting that he must either abandon 
rrovidence (which Voltaire protested he did not do) or 
admit that Providence must be ultimately beneficent. 




The Desastre de Lisbon opens, as is classically fitting, 
with an invocation to all unfortunate mortals in general, 
and to those misguided philosophers who assert that "All 
is weir* in particular, to contemplate the ruins of Lisbon, 
which are described in terms of graphic horror. Will you, 
the poet asks the philosophers, say that these terrible 
sufferings are the result of eternal laws which necessitate 
the choice of a free and good God ? Will you say that this 
ruin is the vengeance of God, the punishment of crimes ? 
But what crime had been committed by infants on the 
breasts of their mothers and was Lisbon so wicked as 
London and Paris ? Lisbon is ruined and Paris is 
dancing. At the sight of such suffering it is impossible 
to restrain our lamentations. You assert that it is pride 
on our part to say that we are unhappy and might be 
happier, but was it pride in the Lisbon victims to say : 
** O Heaven, pity us 1 O Heaven, have mercy on 
human misery I " 

You say that all is well and all is necessitated. What I 
Would the whole universe have been any worse oft if 
Lisbon had not been engulfed ? Are you sure that the 
Eternal could not have placed us in these dreary climes 
without lighting volcanoes under our feet } Do you 
limit supreme power, forbid it to exercise clemency ? 
Has not the eternal artist infinite means ready in His 
hands for all His designs .'' I humbly wish this earth- 
quake had happened in a desert. When man laments 
such a disaster he is not proud but coi^passionate. 

Would it have consoled the victims to say: "Die in 
peace ; your homes are destroyed for the happiness of 
the world ; other hands will build up your burned 
palaces, other nations will be born within your ruined 


walls ; your losses will enrich the North ; all your mis- 
fortunes make for good in the general laws of things ; 
God looks upon you with the same eye as He regards the 
vile worms which will prey upon you in the grave 1 " 
This is horrible language to address to the unfortunate 
and is adding insult to misery. 

No (Voltaire proceeds), do not tell me of the immutable 
laws or necessity ; God controls the chain of events and 
is not bound by it ; all is determined by His beneficent 
choice ; He is free, just, not implacable. But then why 
do we suffer ? Do we remove our woes by denying 
them } This is a problem which has perturbed all races. 

We are children of the Almighty, but born in misery ; 
and we lift our hands to our common father. The pot 
does not reproach the potter for its defects, but then the 
pot has no heart and no speech. You say that the 
misfortune of one is the good of another. A thousand 
insects are born from my dead body. When death 
comes as the last of my woes, it is indeed a consolation 
to be eaten by worms ! 

I know I am a living portion of the great whole. 
Yes, but animals condemned to life, all sentient beings, 
born under the same laws, live in pain and die as I do. 
The elements, animals, men, all are at war. We cannot 
help admitting that there is evi/ in the world. We do 
not know how or why ; and my mind will not allow me 
to believe in Typhon or Arimane, gods of evil. But how 
can we conceive a God, who is all kindness, who lavishes 
gifts on His beloved children and at the same time 
deluges them with evils .? Who can understand this ? 
Evil cannot come from the all-good Being; it cannot 
come from elsewhere, because God alone is master ; yet 
it exists. A God came to console our afflicted race ; He 
visited the earth but He made no change in it. 

Either man was born guilty and God punishes him ; 
or the Master of time and space, without wrath, without 
pity, tranquil, indifferent, follows the eternal torment of 


his first decrees ; or shapeless matter, rebellious against its 
master, carried in itself defects as necessary as itself ; or 
God tests us, and this mortal sojourn is only a brief 
passage to an eternal world. Here we endure temporary 
woes and death puts an end to our miseries. But when 
we leave this horrible passage, who among us can assert 
that he deserves to be happy } 

Whatever view we take, we can only shudder. We 
know nothing and fear everything ; Nature is mute. 
We need a God to speak to the human race ; He alone 
can explain His work, console the weak and enlighten the 
wise. Without Him man leans upon a reed. Leibnitz 
does not explain how, in the best ordered of possible 
worlds, eternal disorder and a chaos of woes mingle real 
pains with our vain pleasures ; nor why the innocent 
endures the same inevitable law as the guilty. I cannot 
understand how everything can be well. I am like a 
doctor, alas, I know nothing. 

I abandon Plato, I reject Epicurus ; Bayle knows 
more than either and I will consult him. Balance in 
hand, Bayle teaches us to doubt ; wise and great enough 
to have no system, he destroys them all and combats 
himself. What then can be achieved by the perfect 
mind } Nothing. The book of fate is closed to our 
gaze. Man, a stranger to himself, is unknown to man. 
What am I .? When did I come } Tormented atoms 
on a heap of mud, which death swallows up and fate plays 
with; but thinking atoms, atoms whose eyes guided by 
thought have measured the heavens. This world, this 
theatre of pride and error, is full of wretches who talk of 
happiness. All complain, all groan as they seek felicity ; 
none would die, none would live his life again. Some- 
times, in our days given up to pain, we wipe away our 
tears with the hand of pleasure ; but pleasure flies away, 
and passes like a shadow ; our griefs, our regrets, our 
losses are without number. The past is only a sad 
memory for us ; the present is dreadful, if there is no 


future, if the night of the grave destroys the being which 
thinks. Some day all wtll he well, that is our hope; 
To-day allis well^ that is the illusion. 

Humble in my sighs, submissive in my suffering, I 
do not rise up against Providence. Of old, I sang the 
seductive laws of sweet pleasures in less lugubrious 
tones.i Other times, other manners. Instructed by 
old age, sharing the weakness of wandering human 
beings, seeking enlightenment in thick darkness, I can 
only suffer and not murmur. 

A calif at his last hour made this single prayer to his 
God : " O sole King, sole limitless being, I bring all you 
do not hold in your immensity — faults, regrets, evils, 
igorance." But he might have added Hope. 



I HAVE reproduced in prose so much of the poem 
because it contains a serious if poetic statement of 
views and ideas which are dealt with playfully and 
satirically in Candide. Indeed, Candide can be fully 
understood only when read in conjunction with this fine 
poem. I accept it as a perfectly sincere expression of 
Voltaire's feelings and doubts at the age of sixty. He had 
seen and suffered much, he had written many books, had 
loved and had buried Mme. du Chltelet ; he had known 
the most interesting men of his age ; he had been in 
prison and in exile, in kings* palaces, in humble lodgings ; 
he had been unknown and poor and was now rich and 
famous. He had long meditated on the problems and 
mysteries of human life and destiny and had endeavoured 
to console himself with a wise ignorance. The Lisbon 
calamity shocked him, as injustices and misfortunes 

^ Refers to Le Mondain. 


little and great often did shock him to indignation or 
satire, according to his mood. Under the stress of this 
emotion, he once more reviewed his ideas and once more 
entered his protest against a facile optimism and a dull 
orthodoxy, in an arraignment of Providence, singularly 
daring in that age of still active religious persecution. At 
one moment in the poem he is ready to take the final step 
in his reasoning, to attain coherence by rejecting the 
theological hypothesis. But his courage was not equal 
to the step ; old prejudices and sentiments encumbered 
him ; he looked Despair in the face and, instead of 
grappling with it, fled to warm doubt and hope. As a 
modern French philosopher says, doubt is now the last 
refuge of faith. 

This poem, together with another called Sur la hoi 
Naturelle, reached J. J. Rousseau in August 1756 when 
he was living at Ermitage and before the progress of his 
paranoia had reached the disastrous stage of suspecting 
and quarrelling with everyone. One of Rousseau's 
fundamental assertions was a confidence in the benefi- 
cence of *' Nature," a conviction that men are born 
" good," that by ** living in accordance with the dictates 
of Nature " men are happy, that they are unhappy because 
they "depart from Nature," and that they are "corrupted " 
by the arts and sciences, by assembling in towns, by 
forming artificial needs and barriers ; in a word, by 
civilisation. The pessimism of Voltaire was therefore 
the very antithesis of the optimism of Rousseau. Voltaire 
argued that men are naturally miserable and only con- 
soled by the artificial creations of civilisation ; Rousseau 
argued that men are miserable because of civilisation 
and could only be happy by rejecting it. Voltaire had 
called the Discourse on the Origin of Inequality a ** book 
directed against the human race." With the poem on 
Lisbon beside him Rousseau attacked Voltaire's views and 
defended his own in a long and profoundly-thought-out 
letter. I shall give some passages from it. 



*• I do not see that we can seek the source of moral 
evil anywhere than in free, perfected, and therefore 
corrupted man ; and, as to physical evils, if sentient 
and impassible is a contradiction (as I think), then 
they are inevitable in every system in which man is a 
part; and then the question is not why man is not 
perfectly happy but why he exists. Moreover, I think 
I have showed that, except for death, which is hardly 
an evil at all except through the preparations which have 
been made to precede it, most of our physical evils are 
our own work. Without leaving your subject of Lisbon 
— ^you must admit, for example, that Nature did not 
collect there twenty thousand houses of six or seven 
storeys, and that if the inhabitants of that great town had 
been dispersed more equally and housed more lightly, 
the damage would have been much less, and perhaps nil. 
Everyone would have fled at the first shock and the day 
afterwards they would have been twenty leagues away, 
all as happy as if nothing had happened. . . . 

" You would have preferred the earthquake to have 
happened in the desert rather than at Lisbon. Can we 
doubt that they do happen in deserts ? But we do not 
speak of them because they do no harm to the town- 
gentlemen, the only men we consider. They do little 
harm to the animals and savages which live widely 
scattered over those distant places, and have nothing to 
fear from falling roofs and burning houses. But what 
would such a privilege indicate .? Does it mean that the 
order of the world should be changed according to our 
caprices, and that Nature should be submissive to our 
laws, and that to prevent an earthquake we have only to 
build a town." 

This is poor stuff, the usual '* Nature " fallacy,^ and 

^ To prevent misunderstanding I must make clear my attitude to 
Rousseau's " Nature." A man disgusted by the present may look forward 
or may look back. Rousseau was a poet and he looked back. He thought 
mankind was suffering from too much civilisation ; Voltaire thought there 


if Voltaire had only read such passages he might well have 
dropped the letter in the fire and have thought no more 
about it; but further on there are some more serious 
arguments which might have deserved his attention. 
The latter portion of the letter-pamphlet contains these 
among other significant paragraphs : 

" To return, Sir, to the system you attack, I think 
it cannot be properly examined without a careful dis- 
tinction between Particular Evils (the existence of which 
no philosopher has ever denied) and General Evils, which 
is denied by Optimism. It is not a question of knowing 
whether each of us suffers or not, but whether it was a 
good thing for the universe to exist and whether our woes 
were inevitable in its constitution. Thus, it seems to 
me that a slight alteration would make the proposition 
more exact, and, instead of 'All is well,' it would be better 
to say * The whole is well * or * All is well as regards the 
whole.* Then it is very evident that no man could 
produce direct proofs for or against it ; for these proofs 
depend on a perfect knowledge of the world's constitu- 
tion and of its author's aim, and this knowledge is incon- 
testably above human intelligence. The true principles 
of Optimism cannot be deduced from the properties of 
matter, nor from the mechanism of the universe, but are 
only arrived at by induction from the perfections of the 
God who presides over all ; so that the existence of God 
is not proved by Pope's system, but Pope's system is 
proved by the existence of God ; and there can be no 
doubt that the question of the origin of evil derives from 
the question of Providence ; and if neither of these two 
questions has been adequately dealt with, the reason is 
that people have always argued falsely about Providence 
and these absurdities have confused all the corollaries 

WM not enough. I think Vohaire was right. But I think Rousseau had 
a more profound mind, and certainly a more emotional and more poetic 
temperament than Voltaire. 


which might be drawn from this great and consoling 
dogma. . . . 

** To think correctly here, it seems to me that things 
should be considered relatively in the physical order and 
absolutely in the moral order. The highest idea I can 
form of Providence is that every material being is dis- 
posed in the best possible way in relation to the whole, 
and that every intelligent and sentient being is disposed 
in the best possible way relative to itself; so that, for 
those who are conscious of existence, it is better to exist 
than not to exist. But this rule must be applied to the 
total duration of every sentient being, and not to some 
particular instant of its duration, such as human life ; 
and this shows how closely the question of Providence is 
linked up with that of the Immortality of the soul, which 
I am so happy as to believe in (without being ignorant 
of the fact that reason may have its doubts), and with 
that of the eternity of penalties which neither you nor I 
nor any man who thinks properly of God will ever believe. 

** I bring back these different questions to their com- 
mon principle because it seems to me that they are all 
linked up with that of the existence of God. If God 
exists. He is perfect; if He is perfect. He is wise, 
almighty and just ; if He is wise and almighty, all is well ; 
if He is just and almighty, my soul is immortal ; if my 
soul is immortal, thirty years of life are nothing to me 
and are perhaps necessary to the continuance of the 
universe. If the first proposition is granted me, the 
others can never be shaken ; if it is denied, there is no 
need to dispute the consequences." 

Commentators on Rousseau have expressed great 
surprise that Voltaire replied to this closely-reasoned 
argument only with a brief and evasive letter. But 
Voltaire could not reply adequately without committing 
himself either to a proposition he had rejected or to a 
proposition he dared not assert and perhaps dared not 


entertain. Rousseau had picked out the weak spot in 
Voltaire's pessimistic Deism. He would not write to 
Rousseau and say : ** Your arguments convince me ; I 
am fully persuaded of the existence of God and admit that 
I must ultimately acknowledge myself an optimist." 
Nor, on the other hand, would he follow his ideas with 
the logic and candour of Diderot and say : ** I admit that 
the hypothesis of God involves intolerable diliculties 
and contradictions. I cannot declare that everything 
is well, either relatively or absolutely ; I cannot shut my 
eyes to all the misery and suffering of mankind ; I do not 
believe in the immortality of the soul ; I do not believe 
in a system of posthumous rewards and punishments ; I 
do not believe in the natural goodness of man, nor do I 
accept the absurd dogma of original sin. I therefore 
abandon my hypothesis of God, for if everything must 
have a cause, there must be a cause for God ; and 
if God is an exception to this rule, the universe 
might equally well be an exception. I look upon 
man as a perfectable animal living in surroundings 
which are neither actually hostile nor actively bene- 
ficent to him, but indifferent. The problem is 
twofold ; to control these surrounding forces to man*s 
benefit, to organise men for the benefit of Man. The 
end is not to be obtained through ignorance, by magic 
or by ignoring facts. So far from its being true that man 
in a state of nature (whatever that may mean) is superior 
to and happier than civilised man, the reverse is true. 
What we need is more, not less, civilisation. This 
cannot be obtained except through intelligent co-opera- 
tion, intensive study of the universe, common-sense and 
public spirit. It cannot be obtained by returning to the 
primitive and hating all one's friends in particular while 
trying to love all mankind in general. Nor can it be 
obtained by any sort of mumbo-jumbo rites, by totem- 
worship, taboos, relics, singing, denouncing the intelli- 
gence and burning opponents. The best results will not 


be perfect, but we can make life more tolerable and more 
secure through tolerance and common-sense, and by each 
contributing what we can to the common stock. Let us 
cultivate our own gardens." 

This, in fact, fairly closely presents Voltaire's pro- 
gramme, except that he could not abandon the hypothesis 
of the deity ; either from some aristocratic prejudice in 
favour of a monarchical universe or because he was afraid 
of the storm and persecution which a frank rejection of 
the supernatural would bring down upon him. It was 
easier for Diderot to make this step than for the Sage of 
Ferney. Voltaire was so conspicuous in the world, had 
so many foes, was so obviously the first quarry for 
religious persecution, had such dismal experience of 
Bastilles and Most Christian or Most Philosophical 
monarchs, that he had every excuse for prudence. In a 
world of powerful fundamentalists, free, logical thought 
was a dangerous indulgence. Therefore Voltaire shrank 
from pushing his thinking to its logical conclusion. He 
evaded the difficulties of the supernatural hypothesis like 
the Epicureans before him, by setting the gods afar off, 
remote, unknowable, indifferent : 

Illud item non est ut fossis credere, sedes 

Esse DeUm sanctus in mundi partibus ullis : 

Tenuis enim natura Deiim, longeque remota 

Sensibus a nostris, animi vix mente videtur. 

Qua quoniam manuum tactum suffugit, et ictum. 

Tactile non nobis quod sit, contigere debet ; 

Tangere enim non quit, quod tangere non licet ipum} 

Or, when the Lucretian irony did not suit his mood, he 
would take refuge in a vague Pantheism ; or, still more 
frequently, would declare that these problems are insoluble 
and discussion of them a hindrance to the main business 
of mankind ; which is to live peaceably, sociably and 

1 Lucretius, lib. V, 147-53. 


So M. de Voltaire did not answer M. Rousseau of 
Geneva in the way I have imagined for him. He 
declined the gambit and wrote that he was ill. But 
all these things he revolved in his mind and in 1758 he 
was inspired to return to the problem of ** All is well," 
and to treat it in a concrete, not an abstract, form, by 
relating the adventures of a candid soul who had been 
taught to believe that all is for the best in this best of all 
possible worlds. 



I AM very far from supposing that the whole origin of 
Candide is described in the preceding pages ; and I 
do not accept blindly Rousseau's statement in the 
Confessions that Candide was the direct answer to 
his letter.^ But Candide is so often represented as a 
merely amusing squib that I felt inclined to stress the 
serious ideas underlying it and to show that these ideas were 
the subject of debate at the time and had been ably attacked 
by a great rival, Rousseau. Voltaire had not always 
been a pessimist. In the days of Cirey and his poem the 
Mondain he had inclined to more Epicurean views, at any 
rate to the view that ** If all is not well, it is at least 
tolerable." * But age, disappointed ambitions, mis- 
fortunes, the death of Mme. du Chatelet (that ardent 
disciple of Leibnitz) all tended to withdraw him from the 
optimism of Pope and the German metaphysician. His 
pessimism did not date from the earthquake of Lisbon 
and the Seven Years' War ; it was of older growth, had 
already been expressed, but became more pronounced 

* Memnon^ for instance, attacks the idea that " All is well." 
' See Bahouc. 


and more loudly proclaimed in that period of general 

I have presumed to mark at some length the features 
of Voltaire's pessimism, which found its liveliest and most 
popular expression in Candide. I shall not dwell on 
sources, influences and comparisons, nor inquire whether 
Voltaire had noticed the character of Candido in Dekker*s 
The Honest Whore or had read the Simplicissus of Grim- 
melshausen and the Cosmopolite of Fougeret de Mon- 
bron. I shall not repeat the time-honoured comparison 
with Johnson's Rasselas or trace minutely or even rapidly 
the numerous passages in Voltaire's own work which are 
reproduced or repeated with variations in Candide. It 
is sufficient to mention that these sources, influences and 
comparisons have frequently been investigated. I shall 
but mention here that the second part of Candide^ printed 
in more than one English translation as the work of 
Voltaire, was not written by Voltaire but by some obscure 
inntator, possibly Thorel de Campigneulles. 

puperficially Candide is a burlesque novel of adventure, 
arw"a very lively and amusing one. As a ** philosophic 
lesson " its intention is tofndiculfethe Optimism of Pope, 
Shaftesbury, Leibnitz andWolf^ En passant^ the novel 
contrives to include a surprisinglylarge number of hits at 
Voltaire's cherished aversions, from Fr^ron to Frederick, 
from the Jesuits to the Inquisition. Pangloss, the 
optimist philosopher, is a compound portrait of Leibnitz 
and Wolff and possibly Rousseau. Xhfi Bulgarians are 
the Prussians^tnefAbac^ are the Frenc^and their War 
is the ^ven Years^TVan) The King wKo " was a great 
genius is /Frederick the Great^ and the recruiting 
sergeants wno" capture Candide *§o unscrupulously are 
Prussians. Some have thought that the Cunegonde- 
Candide affair is a comment on the passion of one of 
Frederick's sisters for Baron Trenck, whose adventure 
may be read at length in the English translation of his 
memoirs recently published under the title of A Prussian 


Casanova. The description of Cunegonde's brother, 
the German Baron, fits Frederick admirably. All the 
miseries and horrors endured and witnessed by Candide 
and his friends — the earthquakes, wars, rapes, pirates, 
religious persecution, swindling, &c. — are true, if slightly 
exaggerated. The six ex-monarchs Candide met in Venice 
really existed. The English Admiral '* shot to encour- 
age the others " was Admiral Byng. Even the Signer 
Pococurante had an original, for Voltaire was half poking 
fun at himself when he sketched that eminent critic. 
Whether portions of living ladies were cut off and eaten 
by desperate beleaguered garrisons is an inquiry into 
which I shall not enter, but doubtless Voltaire had some 
authority for this lugubrious jest. Those who desire 
to follow in more detail all these matters are referred to 
the excellent edition of Candide published in 191 3 by 
M. Andre Morize for the Soci^t^ des Textes Fran9ais 

Candide^ though sharply criticised by Grimm when 
first published, became immediately popular; at least 
forty-three editions are known to have been issued 
between 1759 and 1789. The story has been translated 
into many languages and is certainly better known to 
English readers than any other of Voltaire's works. It 
is responsible for most of the hasty and superficial 
generalisations about Voltaire. But he who knows only 
Candide does not know Voltaire ; brilliant as it is the novel 
represents only a fraction of his thought, only one aspect 
of his multiform artistry. Its popularity is due to its 
amusing adventures, its clear, rapid style, its concen- 
trated wit, its vitality and alertness, and to its triumphant 
disposal of facile optimism. Whether it really proves 
anything of importance may admit of doubt, but none 
can deny that it is one of the most brilliant and readable 
satires ever written. 



The immense reputation of Candide has very much 
overshadowed Voltaire's other philosophic and moral 
tales. Yet the arts of the raconteur and the satirist, 
so conspicuous and so much admired in the more 
famous work, are equally to be found in these smaller 
pieces. An earlier volume of this series presented 
translations of Ulngtnue^ La Princesse de Eahylone^ 
and Micromegas. Those included here are shorter 
but not less brilliant; and the two volumes together 
contain most of Voltaire's Romans, and certainly the best 
of them. 

The World as it is, or Babouc, represents a stage of 
Voltaire's thought between the genial Epicureanism of 
Le Mondain and the grave or sardonic pessimism of 
Le Desastre de Lisbon and Candide. Its motto or moral 
is, ** that if all is not well, all is at least tolerable " ; an 
attitude which is perhaps the most permanent with 
Voltaire. His pessimism was rarely so deep that he 
could not laugh it away. Babouc is characteristic of 
Voltaire's light but ruthless exposure of social abuses. 
In a few pages of this fable he attacks wars of aggression, 
mismanagement of hospitals, church ceremonies and 
sermons, burial in churches, cicisbdisme, the sale of 
offices of the law and army commissions, commercial 
dishonesty, religious controversy and sectarianism, the 
parasites of literature, the tax farmers and the pride of 
statesmen. And at the same time he contrives to show 
the compensating advantages of every one of these 
inconveniences. This is one of the most truly philosophic 
of Voltaire's prose fables. He is criticising lire, not from 
the standpoint of sect or party, but from the point of view 
of a disinterested yet humane and intelligent spectator. 

Cosi-Sancta is a prose version of one of the Boccaccic 


or La Fontaine contes which Voltaire loved to tell in verse. 
There was scarcely a time in his life when he believed in 
female virtue, and he took great delight, in old age as in 

J^outh, in pointing out or illustrating the frailties of fair 
adies. A good classical education or even a strong 
dose of common-sense is often a preservative from 
commonplace Puritanism. Voltaire never fell to that^ 
pettiness. He had an elfish joy in teasing churchmen ' 
without a sense of humour or the polish of high intelli- 
gence. The superior prelates of the Church were quite 
Voltaire's match in the elegance of eighteenth-century 
culture. His game was the blundering bishop or the 
zealous canon, who must always be fidgeting the world 
with saintly propaganda. No better way of teasing them 
could be found than the Boccaccio-like tale, such as 
Cosi-Sancta. I suspect that the tale with its moral of 
** a little ill for a great good " is a sly hit at the maxim 
of the end justifying the means, which was advanced by 
a few of the over-zealous members of the Society of Jesus. 
That great order, which aimed at nothing less than a 
mild but firm intellectual dictatorship, has been too much 
calumniated for one to wish to dwell on this aspect of 
Cosi-Sancta. If the reader does not think it a merry 
conceited jest, he can always fall back on Tupper. 

Memnon is a kind of preliminary sketch for Candide, 
for even so early as 1747 we find Voltaire entering his 
protest against the doctrine that ** All that is, is right." 
But the main shaft of satire here is directed against self- 
righteousness. Memnon is much more Catholic than 
Voltaire would have cared to admit. It is the Protestant 
or the Rationalist who likes to think that he need never 
err, never do what he will afterwards regret ; never make 
a fool of himself. An older and a wiser psychology, with 
more insight and indulgence, recognised that we are all 
sinners and was prepared to deal with mankind accord- 
ingly. Thus Voltaire always remained partly faithful" 
to Mediterranean indulgence and hated the unco guid. 


Memnbn's project of being perfectly wise is very soon 
exploded by his creator. In fact Memnon is so speedily 
reduced to extreme misery that Voltaire has to change his 
ground to excuse it, and wind up with an attack on 
Optimism. It is perhaps one of Voltaire's most valuable 
contributions to popular thought that he denied the 
validity of both Original Sin and Optimism ; that is, he 
did not deny evil with Shaftesbury and Rousseau, nor 
attribute it to the sin of Adam and Eve with the Church. 

Bababec and the Fakirs is a mere squib, introduced as a 
specimen of Voltaire's perpetual attacks on the clergy. 
The satire of ascetic practices is a little heavy and the 
explanation of the ascetic's behaviour is not altogether 
profound ; but the whole is most characteristic of the 
eighteenth-century attitude towards all such practices. 
The hermit and anchorites generally only became fashion- 
able with Romanticism. 

Scarmentado's Travels is another of the pieces which 
read like an early draft of part of Candide. Indeed, the 
Inquisition scenes in the latter are fairly closely copied 
from the earlier piece. It must always be remembered 
that these short pieces were to Voltaire nothing more 
than the merest journalism. He wrote them well and 
wittily, because everything he did was well done and he 
seldom could avoid being witty ; but they were intended 
as nothing more than amusing prose fables to familiarise 
women and less-educated readers generally with Voltaire's 
Rationalist ideas. He always liked to ram home the idea 
that with men as they are, all countries and races have 
their feuds, intolerances and absurdities. And he liked 
to show that the worst of these are due to religious fanati- 
cism. Any powerful group or sect with fanatical views 
soon develops the spirit of persecution ; persecution is, 
in fact, the physical expression of mental fanaticism, and 
it is the greatest enemy of human happiness. 

Jeannot and Colin^ though one of the shortest of 
Voltaire's tales, is certainly one the most brilliant. The 


moral about happiness not dwelling in vanity (which is 
true enough) does not matter in comparison with this 
amusing study of nouveaux riches and the profound satire 
of vulgar ideas of education. Voltaire little dreamed that 
M. and Mme. de la Jeannoti^re were to become the 
arbiters of the world's fashion and that education would 
be attacked by people with views not much more elevated 
or far-sighted. The psychology of this story is much' 
truer to life than that in some of the others, except for 
the generosity of Colin at the end, which Voltaire must 
have known was in the highest degree improbable. 
Otherwise, all the character-types, though only appearing 
for a few lines, are perfectly realised and vivid. 

Finally, as a different specimen of Voltaire's art, I have 
included Lord Chesterfield's EarSy which hovers between 
dialogue and narrative and is midway between the Romans 
and the propagandist pamphlets. It was written when 
Voltaire was a very old man — over eighty — and not only 
shows the old man's failing powers, but his endeavour to 
make up for this by overdoing the scatological note. The 
interest (in my opinion) is in the old man's obstinate 
courage and pertinacity — still bringing a free mind to 
bear upon the problems of the universe. The aged 
person's love of life almost always takes the form of a 
gradual conviction or desired conviction of personal 
immortality. Most people do well not to deny them- 
selves this gentle consolation. But I like to think of that 
clear, amusing, brave spirit keeping up to the last the fight 
against delusion and renewing for the thousandth time 
its baffled inquiry into the mysteries of life and death. 
Even those who dislike, and feel they have a right to 
despise Voltaire, must grant him that courage and that 
unconquerable will. 

I should add that I have omitted one chapter from this 
story because I thought it too cloacal and not important 
enough to justify its nastiness. 

Richard Aldington. 





IV. CANDIDE ...... 








Chapter I : How Candide was brought up in a nobie 

castle^ and how he was expelled from the same . . 3 

Chapter II: What happened to Candide among the 

Bulgarians .6 

Chapter III: How Candide escaped from the Bulgarians 

and what became of him ..... 9 

Chapter IV: How Candide met his old master in 

philosophy^ Doctor Pang/ossy and what happened . 1 2 

Chapter V: Storm, shipwreck, earthquake, and what 
happened to Dr. Pangloss, to Candide and the Ana- 
baptist Jacques 16 

xxviii CONTENTS 


Chapter VI: How a splendid auto-da-fi was held to 

prevent earthquakes, and how Candide was flogged . 20 

Chapter VII : How an old woman took care of Candide, 

and how he regained that which he loved ... 22 

Chapter VIII: Cunegonde*s Story . . . .25 

Chapter IX: ^hat happened to Ctmegonde, to Candide, 

to the Grand Inquisitor and to a Jew ... 29 

Chapter X : How Candide, Cunegonde and the old woman 
arrived at Cadiz in great distress, and how they 
embarked • 3' 

Chapter XI: The old woman* s story .... 34 

Chapter XII: Continuation of the old woman* s misforttmes 38 

Chapter XIII: How Candide was obliged to separate 

from the fair Cunegonde and the old woman . . 42 

Chapter XI V : How Candide and Cacambo were received 

by the Jesuits in Paraguay 45 

Chapter XV : How Candide killed his dear Cunegonde* s 

brother 49 

Chapter XVI : What happened to the two travellers with 

two girls, two monkeys, and the savages called Oreillons 5 2 

Chapter XVII : Arrival of Candide and his valet in the 

country of Eldorado and what they saw there . . 56 



Chapter XV III: fVhat they saw in the land of Eldorado 60 

Chapter XIX : What happened to them at Surinam^ and 

how Candide made the acquaintance of Martin . . 66 

Chapter XX : fFhat happened to Candide and Martin 

at sea ........ 72 

Chapter XXI : Candide and Martin approach the coast 

of France and argue ...... 75 

Chapter XXII : What happened to Candide and Martin 

in France 77 

Chapter XXIII: Candide and Martin reach the coast 

of England ; and what they saw there . . • ^9 

Chapter XXIV: Paquette and Friar Girofiee . .91 

Chapter XXV : risit to the noble Venetian, Lord Poco- 
curante ........ 96 

Chapter XXVI : How Candide and Martin supped with 

six strangers and who they were . . . .102 

Chapter XXVII: Candide' s voyage to Constantinople . 106 

Chapter XXVIII: What happened to Candide, to 

Cwtegonde, to Pangloss, to Martin, etc. . . .111 

Chapter XXIX: How Candide found Cunegonde and 

the old woman again . . . . . • 1 14 

Chapter XXX: Conclusion 116 



THE WORLD AS IT IS: Babouc's Vision (1746): 

Chapter I: The apparition . . . . .123 
Chapter II: Jmdes and Hospitals . . . .124 

Chapter III: Barbarity 127 

Chapter IV : Elegance 1 29 

Chapter V: Morals 130 

Chapter VI: Venality 131 

Chapter VII: The Declaimers 133 

Chapter VIII: Commerce 135 

Chapter IX: The Controversialists . . . .136 

Chapter X: The Critics 138 

Chapter XI: The Philosophers 139 

Chapter XII: The Law-court 141 

Chapter XIII: Finance 142 

Chapter XIV: The Ministry 143 

Chapter XV: Conjugal Relations . . . .145 

Chapter XVI: Society 147 

Chapter XVII: The Statue 148 

COSI-SANCTA : a little ill for a great good, an 

AFRICAN TALE (1746) 149 

MEMNON, or human wisdom (1747) . . • '59 



JEANNOT AND COLIN (1764) .... 





.^(■^ K<rA M'' ^'^ 


Facing Page 

Have they always been Liars Cheats Traitors Brigands 
Weak Flighty Cowardly Envious Gluttonous Drunken 
Grasping Ficious Bloody Backbiting Debauched Fana- 
tical Hypocritical and Silly? . . . . ^4 

Te Deums were sung in both camps • • • • 30 

What can be the sufficient reason for this phenomenon ? 46 

// pleased Heaven to send the Bulgarians to our noble castle . 62 

The old Woman's story ...... 78 

What would Dr. Pangloss say if he saw what the pure state 

of nature is? . . . . . .94 

The ingenious manner in which they and their sheep were 

hoisted on to the top of the mountains . . . IIO 

With the aid of medicine Candide's illness became serious . 126 

Oh 1 What a superior man ! What a great genius ! Nothing 

can please him . . . . .142 

She saw me with my crucial incision . . . .158 

I cannot see the end of my nose; the heavenly light has 

disappeared . . . . . -174 

The great aim of man is to succeed in society . . ^190 





Translated from the German by Dr. Ralph with the additions found in 
the doctor's pocket when he died at Minden, in the year of grace 1759. 



How Candide ixfas brought up in a noble castle, and how he 
was expelled from the same 

IN the castle of Baron Thunder-ten-tronckh in 
Westphalia there lived a youth, endowed by Nature 
with the most gentle character. His face was the 
expression of his soul. His judgment was quite 
honest and he was extremely simple-minded; and this 
was the reason, I think, that he was named Candide. 
Old servants in the house suspected that he was the son 
of the Baron's sister and a decent honest gentleman of 
the neighbourhood, whom this young lady would never 
marry because he could only prove seventy-two quarter- 
ings, and the rest of his genealogical tree was lost, owing 
to the injuries of time. 



The Baron was one of the most powerful lords in 
Westphalia, for his castle possessed a door and windows. 
His Great Hall was even decorated with a piece of 
tapestry. The dogs in his stable-yards formed a pack 
of hounds when necessary ; his grooms were his hunts- 
men ; the village curate was his Grand Almoner. They 
all called him ** My Lord," and laughed heartily at his 

The Baroness weighed about three hundred and fifty 
pounds, was therefore greatly respected, and did the 
honours of the house with a dignity which rendered her 
still more respectable. Her daughter Cunegonde, aged 
seventeen, was rosy-cheeked, fresh, plump and tempting. 
The Baron's son appeared in every respect worthy of his 
father. The tutor Pangloss was the oracle of the house, 
and little Candide followed his lessons with all the 
candour of his age and character. 

Pangloss taught metaphysico-theologo-cosmolo-nigo- 
logy. He proved admirably that there is no effect 
without a cause and that, in this best of all possible 
worlds. My Lord the Baron's castle was tlie best of 
castles and his wife the best of all possible Baronesses. 

*• 'Tis demonstrated," said he, " that things cannot 
be otherwise ; for, since everything is made for an end, 
everything is necessarily for the best end. Observe that 
noses were made to wear spectacles ; and so we have 
spectacles. Legs were visibly instituted to be breeched, 
and we have breeches. Stones were formed to be 
quarried and to build castles ; and My Lord has a very 
noble castle ; the greatest Baron in the province should 
have the best house ; and as pigs were made to be eaten, 
we eat pork all the year round; consequently, those 
who have asserted that all is well ^ talk nonsense ; they 
ought to have said that all is for the best." 

Candide listened attentively and believed innocently; 

^ Tout est bien, all is well, said Rousseau in his famous attack oa 
Voltaire's poem about the Lisbon earthquake. See Introduction. 


for he thought Miss Cunegonde extremely beautiful, 
although he was never bold enough to tell her so. He 
decided that after the happiness of being born Baron of 
Thunder-ten-tronckh, the second degree of happiness 
was to be Miss Cunegonde ; the third, to see her every 
day; and the fourth to listen to Doctor Pangloss, the 
greatest philosopher of the province and therefore of the 
whole world. 

One day when Cunegonde was walking near the castle, 
in a little wood which was called The Park, she observed 
Doctor Pangloss in the bushes, giving a lesson in experi- 
mental physics to her mother's waiting-maid, a very 
pretty and docile brunette. Miss Cunegonde had a 
great inclination for science and watched breathlessly 
the reiterated experiments she witnessed ; she observed 
clearly the Doctor's sufficient reason, the effects and the 
causes, and returned home very much excited, pensive, 
filled with the desire of learning, reflecting that she 
might be the sufficient reason of young Candide and 
that he might be hers. 

On her way back to the castle she met Candide and 
blushed ; Candide also blushed. She bade him good- 
morning in a hesitating voice ; Candide replied without 
knowing what he was saying. Next day, when they left 
the table after dinner, Cunegonde and Candide found 
themselves behind a screen ; Cunegonde dropped her 
handkerchief, Candide picked it up ; she innocently held 
his hand; the young man innocently kissed the young 
lady's hand with remarkable vivacity, tenderness and 
grace ; their lips met, their eyes sparkled, their knees 
trembled, their hands wandered. Baron Thunder-ten- 
tronckh passed near the screen, and, observing this cause 
and effect, expelled Candide from the castle by kicking 
him in the backside frequently and hard. Cunegonde 
swooned ; when she recovered her senses, the Barones^ 
slapped her in the face ; and all was in consternation in 
the noblest and most agreeable of all possible castles. 

What happened to Candide among the Bulgarians 

C AND IDE, expelled from the earthly paradise^ 
wandered for a long time without knowing where 
he was going, turning up his eyes to Heaven, 
gazing back frequently at the noblest of castles 
which held the most beautiful of young Baronesses ; he 
lay down to sleep supperless between two furrows in 
the open fields ; it snowed heavily in large flakes. The 
next morning the shivering Candide, penniless, dying of 
cold and exhaustion, dragged himself towards the neigh- 
bouring town, which was called WaldberghofF-trarbk- 
dikdorff. He halted sadly at the door of an inn. Two 
men dressed in blue noticed him. 

** Comrade," said one, " there's a well-built young 
man of the right height." 

They went up to Candide and very civilly invited him 
to dinner. 

" Gentlemen," said Candide with charming modesty, 



** you do me a great honour, but I have no money to 
pay my share." 

" Ah, sir," said one of the men in blue, " persons of 
your figure and merit never pay anything ; are you not 
five feet five tall ? " 

" Yes, gentlemen," said he, bowing, " that is my 

" Ah, sir, come to table ; we will not only pay your 
expenses, we will never allow a man like you to be short 
of money ; men were only made to help each other." 

" You are in the right," said Candide, " that is what 
Doctor Pangloss was always telling me, and I see that 
everything is for the best." 

They begged him to accept a few crowns, he took 
them and wished to give them an lOU ; they refused 
to take it and all sat down to table. 

*' Do you not love tenderly ..." 

" Oh, yes," said he. '* I love Miss Cunegonde 

** No," said one of the gentlemen. " We were asking 
if you do not tenderly love the King of the Bulgarians." 

" Not a bit," said he, " for I have never seen him." 

" What 1 He is the most charming of kings, and 
you must drink his health." 

" Oh, gladly, gentlemen." 

And he drank. 

" That is sufficient," he was told. " You are now 
the support, the aid, the defender, the hero of the Bul- 
garians ; your fortune is made and your glory assured." 

They immediately put irons on his legs and took him 
to a regiment. He was made to turn to the right and 
left, to raise the ramrod and return the ramrod, to take 
aim, to fire, to double up, and he was given thirty strokes 
with a stick ; the next day he drilled not quite so badly, 
and received only twenty strokes; the day after, he 
only had ten and was looked on as a prodigy by his 


Candide was completely mystified and could not make 
out how he was a hero. One fine spring day he thought 
he would take a walk, going straight ahead, in the belief 
that to use his legs as he pleased was a privilege of the 
human species as well as of animals. He had not gone 
two leagues when four other heroes, each six feet tall, 
fell upon him, bound him and dragged him back to a 
cell. He was asked by his judges whether he would 
rather be thrashed thirty-six times by the whole regiment 
or receive a dozen lead bullets at once in his brain. 
Although he protested that men's wills are free and that 
he wanted neither one nor the other, he had to make a 
choice; by virtue of that gift of God which is called 
liberty^ he determined to run the gauntlet thirty-six times 
and actually did so twice. There were two thousand 
men in the regiment. That made four thousand strokes 
which laid bare the muscles and nerves from his neck 
to his backside. As they were about to proceed to a 
third turn, Candide, utterly exhausted, begged as a favour 
that they would be so kind as to smash his head ; he 
obtained this favour; they bound his eyes and he was 
made to kneel down. At that moment the King of the 
Bulgarians came by and inquired the victim's crime ; 
and as this King was possessed of a vast genius, he 
perceived from what he learned about Candide that he 
was a young metaphysician very ignorant in worldly 
matters, and therefore pardoned him with a clemency 
which will be praised in all newspapers and all ages. 
An honest surgeon healed Candide in three weeks with 
the ointments recommended by Dioscorides.^ He had 
already regained a little skin and could walk when the 
King of the Bulgarians went to war with the King of 
the Abares.2 

^ A Greek author of the time of Nero. 

' The Bulgarians are the Prussians and the Abares the French. The 
King of vast genius is Frederick the Great, whose recruiting methods are 
glanced at in this chapter. 



How Candide escaped from the Bulgarians and what became 
of him 

NOTHING could be smarter, more splendid, 
more brilliant, better drawn up than the two 
armies. Trimipets, fifes, hautboys, drums, 
cannons formed a harmony such as has never 
been heard even in hell. The cannons first of all 
laid flat about six thousand men on each side ; then the 
musketry removed from the best of worlds some nine or 
ten thousand blackguards who infested its surface. The 
bayonet also was the sufficient reason for the death of 
some thousands of men. The whole might amount to 
thirty thousand souls. Candide, who trembled like a 
philosopher, hid himself as well as he could during this 
heroic butchery. 

At last, while the two kings each commanded a 
Te Deimi in his camp, Candide decided to go elsewhere 
to reason about eflFects and causes. He clambered over 
heaps of dead and dying men and reached a neighbouring 
village, which was in ashes; it was an Abare village 
which the Bulgarians had burned in accordance with 
international law. Here, old men dazed with blows 
watched the dying agonies of their murdered wives who 
clutched their children to their bleeding breasts ; there, 
disembowelled girls who had been made to satisfy the 
natural appetites of heroes gasped their last sighs ; others, 
half-burned, begged to be put to death. Brains were 
scattered on the ground among dismembered arms and 


Candida fled to another village as fast as he could; 
it belonged to the Bulgarians, and Abarian heroes had 
treated it in the same way. Candide, stumbling over 
quivering limbs or across ruins, at last escaped from the 
theatre of war, carrying a little food in his knapsack, 
and never forgetting Miss Cunegonde. His provisions 
were all gone when he reached Holland ; but, having 
heard that everyone in that country was rich and a 
Christian, he had no doubt at all but that he would be 
as well treated as he had been in the Baron's castle 
before he had been expelled on account of Miss Cune- 
gonde's pretty eyes. 

He asked an alms of several grave persons, who all 
replied that if he continued in that way he would be 
shut up in a house of correction to teach him how to 

He then addressed himself to a man who had been 
discoursing on charity in a large assembly for an horn- 
on end. This orator, glancing at him askance, 
said : 

" What are you doing here } Are you for the good 
cause ? " 

" There is no effect without a cause," said Candide 
modestly. " Everything is necessarily linked up and 
arranged for the best. It was necessary that I should 
be expelled from the company of Miss Cunegonde, that 
I ran the gauntlet, and that I beg my bread until I can 
earn it; all this could not have happened differently." 

" My friend," said the orator, *' do you believe that 
the Pope is Anti-Christ .? " 

" I had never heard so before," said Candide, ** but 
whether he is or isn't, I am starving." 

** You don't deserve to eat," said the other. " Hence, 
rascal ; hence, you wretch ; and never come near me 

The orator's wife thrust her head out of the window 
and seeing a man who did not believe that the Pope 


was Anti-Christ, she poured on his head a^fuli 9^. ^/""^e 
O Heavens ! To what excess religious zeal is carried 
by ladies ! 

A man who had not been baptised, an honest Ana- 
baptist named Jacques, saw the cruel and ignominious 
treatment of one of his brothers, a featherless two-legged 
creature with a soul ; he took him home, cleaned him 
up, gave him bread and beer, presented him with two 
florins, and even offered to teach him to work at the 
manufacture of Persian stuffs which are made in Holland. 
Candide threw himself at the man's feet, exclaiming : 

" Doctor Pangloss was right in telling me that all is 
for the best in this world, for I am vastly more touched 
by your extreme generosity than by the harshness of the 
gentleman in the black cloak and his good lady." 

The next day when he walked out he met a beggar 
covered with sores, dull-eyed, with the end of his nose 
fallen away, his mouth awry, his teeth black, who talked 
huskily, was tormented with a violent cough and spat 
out a tooth at every cough. 


Hov) Candide met kis old master in philosophy^ Doctor 
Pangloss, and what happened 

CANDIDE, moved even more by compassion 
than by horror, gave this horrible beggar the 
two crowns he had received from the honest 
Anabaptist, Jacques. The phantom gazed fix- 
edly at him, shed tears and threw its arms round his 
neck. Candide recoiled in terror. 

" Alas I " said the wretch to the other wretch, " don't 
you recognise your dear Pangloss ? ** 

" What do I hear } You, my dear master I You, in 
this horrible state 1 What misfortune has happened to 
you ? Why are you no longer in the noblest of castles } 
What has become of Miss Cunegonde, the pearl of 
young ladies, the masterpiece of Nature } " 

** I am exhausted," said Pangloss. Candide imme- 
diately took him to the Anabaptist's stable, where he 
gave him a little bread to eat ; and when Pangloss had 
recovered : 

" Well 1 " said he, " Cunegonde } " 

" I^ead," replied the other. 

At this word Candide swooned ; his friend restored 
him to his senses with a little bad vinegar which hap- 
pened to be in the stable. Candide opened his eyes. 



" Ounegonde dead ! Ah ! best of worlds, where are 
you? But what illness did she die of ? Was it because 
she saw me kicked out of her father's noble castle ? " 

'* No," said Pangloss. " She was disembowelled by 
Bulgarian soldiers, after having been raped to the limit 
of possibility; they broke the Baron's head when he 
tried to defend her ; the Baroness was cut to pieces ; 
my poor pupil was treated exactly like his sister; and 
as to the castle, there is not one stone standing on 
another, not a barn, not a sheep, not a duck, not a tree ; 
but we were well avenged, for the Abares did exactly 
the same to a neighbouring barony which belonged to a 
Bulgarian Lord." 

At this, Candide swooned again ; but, having re- 
covered and having said all that he ought to say, he 
inquired the cause and effect, the sufficient reason which 
had reduced Pangloss to so piteous a state. 

*' Alas I " said Pangloss, '* 'tis love ; love, the consoler 
of the human race, the preserver of the universe, the 
soul of all tender creatures, gentle love." 

** Alas 1 " said Candide, " I am acquainted with this 
love, this sovereign of hearts, this soul of our soul ; it 
has never brought me anything but one kiss and twenty 
kicks in the backside. How could this beautiful cause 
produce in you so abominable an effect ? " 

Pangloss replied as follows : 

" My dear Candide 1 You remember Paquette, the 
maid-servant of our august Baroness; in her arms I 
enjoyed the delights of Paradise which have produced 
the tortures of Hell by which you see I am devoured ; 
she was infected and perhaps is dead. Paquette received 
this present from a most learned monk, who had it from 
the source; for he received it from an old countess, 
who had it from a cavalry captain, who owed it to a 
marchioness, who derived it from a page, who had 
received it from a Jesuit, who, when a novice, had it in 
a direct line from one of the companions of Christopher 


Columbus. For my part, I shall not give it to anyone, 
for I am dying." 

'* O Pangloss ! " exclaimed Candide, ** this is a strange 
genealogy I Wasn't the devil at the root of it ? " 

*' Not at all," replied that great man. " It was 
something indispensable in this best of worlds, a neces- 
sary ingredient ; for, if Columbus in an island of America 
had not caught this disease, which poisons the source of 
generation, and often indeed prevents generation, we 
should not have chocolate and cochineal ; it must also 
be noticed that hitherto in our continent this disease is 
peculiar to us, like theological disputes. The Turks, 
the Indians, the Persians, the Chinese, the- Siamese and 
the Japanese are not yet familiar with it ; but there is a 
sufficient reason why they in their turn should become 
familiar with it in a few centuries. Meanwhile, it has 
made marvellous progress among us, and especially in 
those large armies composed of honest, well-bred stipen- 
diaries who decide the destiny of States; it may be 
asserted that when thirty thousand men fight a pitched 
battle against an equal number of troops, there are about 
twenty thousand with the pox on either side." 

** Admirable I " said Candide. ** But you must get 

** How can I ? " said Pangloss. " I haven't a sou, 
my friend, and in the whole extent of this globe, you 
cannot be bled or receive an enema without paying or 
without someone paying for you." 

This last speech determined Candide; he went and 
threw himselr at the feet of his charitable Anabaptist, 
Jacques, and drew so touching a picture of the state to 
which his friend was reduced that the good easy man 
did not hesitate to succour Pangloss ; he had him cured 
at his own expense. In this cure Pangloss only lost one 
eye and one ear. He could write well and knew arith- 
metic perfectly. The Anabaptist made him his book- 
keeper. At the end of two months he was compelled 





Z_ ^^'i&g, <Deb(mcQ Jmaiiad cH^nml an^ 



to go to Lisbon on business and took his two philosophers 
on the boat with him. Pangloss explained to him how 
everything was for the best. Jacques was not of this 

" Men," said he, ** must have corrupted nature a 
little, for they were not born wolves, and they have 
become wolves. God did not give them twenty-four- 
pounder cannons or bayonets, and they have made 
bayonets and cannons to destroy each other. I might 
bring bankruptcies into the account and Justice which 
seizes the goods of bankrupts in order to deprive the 
creditors of them." 

" It was all indispensable," replied the one-eyed doctor, 
" and private misfortunes make the public good, so that 
the more private misfortunes there are, the more every- 
thing is well." 

While he was reasoning, the air grew dark, the winds 
blew from the four quarters of the globe and the ship 
was attacked by the most horrible tempest in sight of 
the port of Lisbon. 


Storniy shipwreck^ earthquake^ and what happened to Dr, 
Pang/osSy to Candide and the Anabaptist Jacques 

HALF the enfeebled passengers, suffering from 
that inconceivable anguish which the rolling 
of a ship causes in the nerves and in all the 
humours of bodies shaken in contrary direc- 
tions, did not retain strength enough even to trouble 
about the danger. The other half screamed and prayed ; 
the sails were torn, the masts broken, the vessel was leaking. 
Those worked who could, no one co-operated, no one 
commanded. The Anabaptist tried to help the crew a 
little ; he was on the main-deck ; a furious sailor struck 
him violently and stretched him on the deck; but the 
blow he delivered gave him so violent a shock that he 
fell head-first out of the ship. He remained hanging 
and clinging to part of the broken mast. The good 
Jacques ran to his aid, helped him to climb back, and 
from the effort he made was flung into the sea in full 
view of the sailor, who allowed him to drown without 
condescending even to look at him. Candide came up, 
saw his benefactor reappear for a moment and then be 
engulfed for ever. He tried to throw himself after him 
into the sea; he was prevented by the philosopher 
Pangloss, who proved to him that the Lisbon roads 
had been expressly created for the Anabaptist to be 
drowned in them. While he was proving this a prioriy 
the vessel sank, and everyone perished except Pangloss, 
Candide and the brutal sailor who had drowned the 



virtuous Anabaptist ; the blackguard swam successfully 
to the shore ana Pangloss and Candide were carried there 
on a plank. 

When they had recovered a little, they walked toward 
Lisbon ; they had a little money by the help of which 
they hoped to be saved from hunger after having escaped 
the storm. 

Weeping the death of their benefactor, they had 
scarcely set foot in the town when they felt the earth 
tremble under their feet ; the sea rose in foaming masses 
in the port and smashed the ships which rode at anchor. 
Whirlwinds of flame and ashes covered the streets and 
squares ; the houses collapsed, the roofs were thrown 
upon the foundations, and the foundations were scattered ; 
thirty thousand inhabitants of every age and both sexes 
were crushed under the ruins. Whistling and swearing, 
the sailor said : 

'* There'll be something to pick up here." 

** What can be the sufficient reason for this pheno- 
menon .? " said Pangloss. 

*' It is the last day 1 " cried Candide. 

The sailor immediately ran among the debris, dared 
death to find money, found it, seized it, got drunk, and 
having slept off his wine, purchased the favours of the 
first woman of good-will he met on the ruins of the 
houses and among the dead and dying. Pangloss, 
however, pulled him by the sleeve. 

'* My friend," said he, " this is not well, you are dis- 
regarding universal reason, you choose the wrong time." 

" Blood and 'ounds I " he retorted, "I am a sailor 
and I was born in Batavia ; four times have I stamped 
on the crucifix during four voyages to Japan ; * you 
have found the right man for your universal reason I " 

* After a conspiracy of Christians in Japan, all foreigners were expelled. 
The Dutch, who had revealed the plot to the Emperor of Japan, alone 
were permitted to remain, on condition that they gave up all signs of 
Christianity and stamped on the crucifix. 


Candidc had been hurt by some falling stones; he 
lay in the street covered with debris. He said to 
Pangloss : 

'* Alas ! Get me a little wine and oil ; I am dying." 

" This earthquake is not a new thing," replied Pan- 
gloss. " The town of Lima felt the same shocks in 
America last year ; similar causes produce similar effects ; 
there must certainly be a train of sulphur underground 
from Lima to Lisbon." 

" Nothing is more probable," replied Candide ; ** but, 
for God's sake, a little oil and wine." 

** What do you mean, probable ? " replied the philo- 
sopher ; " I maintain that it is proved." 

Candide lost consciousness, and Pangloss brought him 
a little water from a neighbouring fountain. 

Next day they found a little food as they wandered 
among the ruins and regained a little strength. After- 
wards they worked like others to help the inhabitants 
who had escaped death. Some citizens they had assisted 
gave them as good a dinner as could be expected in such 
a disaster ; true, it was a dreary meal ; the hosts watered 
their bread with their tears, but Pangloss consoled them 
by assuring them that things could not be otherwise. 

" For," said he, *' all this is for the best ; for, if there 
is a volcano at Lisbon, it cannot be anywhere else ; for 
it is impossible that things should not be where they 
are ; for all is well." 

A little, dark man, a familiar of the Inquisition, who 
sat beside him, politely took up the conversation, and 
said : 

** Apparently you do not believe in original sin ; for, 
if everything is for the best, there was neither fall nor 

** I most humbly beg your excellency's pardon," replied 
Pangloss still more politely, " for the fall of man and 
the curse necessarily entered into the best of all possible 



'• Then you do not believe in free-will ? " said the 

" Your excellency will pardon me," said Pangloss ; 
'* free-will can exist with absolute necessity ; for it was 
necessary that we should be free ; for in short, limited 
will . . ." 

Pangloss was in the middle of his phrase when the 
familiar nodded to his armed attendant who was pouring 
out port or Oporto wine for him. 


How a splendid auto-da-fe was held to prevent earthquakes^ 
and how Candide was flogged 

AFTER the earthquake which destroyed three- 
quarters of Lisbon, the wise men of that country 
could discover no more efficacious way of pre- 
venting a total ruin than by giving the people 
a splendid auto-da-fe. It was decided by the university 
of Coimbre that the sight of several persons being slowly 
burned in great ceremony is an infallible secret for 
preventing earthquakes. 

Consequently they had arrested a Biscayan convicted 
of having married his fellow-godmother, and two Portu- 
guese who, when eating a chicken, had thrown away the 
bacon ; after dinner they came and bound Dr. Pangloss 
and his disciple Candide, one because he had spoken 
and the other because he had listened with an air of 
approbation ; they were both carried separately to ex- 
tremely cool apartments, where there was never any 
discomfort from the sun ; a week afterwards each was 
dressed in a sanbenito and their heads were ornamented 
with paper mitres ; Candide's mitre and sanbenito were 
painted with flames upside down and with devils who 
had neither tails nor claws ; but Pangloss's devils had 
claws and tails, and his flames were upright. 



Dressed in this manner they marched in procession 
and listened to a most pathetic sermon, followed by 
lovely plain-song music. Candide was flogged in time 
to the music, while the singing went on ; the Biscayan 
and the two men who had not wanted to eat bacon were 
burned, and Pangloss was hanged, although this is not 
the custom. The very same day, the earth shook again 
with a terrible clamour. 

Candide, terrified, dumbfounded, bewildered, covered 
with blood, quivering from head to foot, said to himself : 

** If this is the best of all possible worlds, what are 
the others .? Let it pass that I was flogged, for I was 
flogged by the Bulgarians, but, O my dear Pangloss 1 
The greatest of philosophers I Must I see you hanged 
without knowing why ! O my dear Anabaptist ! The 
best of men 1 Was it necessary that you should be 
drowned in port I O Miss Cunegonde 1 The pearl of 
women ! Was it necessary that your belly should be 
slit ! •* 

He was returning, scarcely able to support himself, 
preached at, flogged, absolved and blessed, when an old 
woman accosted him and said : 

** Courage, my son, follow me." 


How an old woman took care of Candide and how he regained 
that which he loved 

CANDIDE did not take courage, but he followed 
the old woman to a hovel ; she gave him a pot 
of ointment to rub on, and left him food and 
drink ; she pointed out a fairly clean bed ; near 
the bed there was a suit of clothes. 

*' Eat, drink, sleep," said she, *' and may our Lady 
of Atocha, my Lord Saint Anthony of Padua and my 
Lord Saint James of Compostella take care of you ; I 
shall come back to-morrow." 

Candide, still amazed by all he had seen, by all he 
had suffered, and still more by the old woman's charity, 
tried to kiss her hand. 

** 'Tis not my hand you should kiss," said the old 
woman, " I shall come back to-morrow. Rub on the 
ointment, eat and sleep." 

In spite of all his misfortune, Candide ate and went 
to sleep. Next day the old woman brought him break- 
fast, examined his back and smeared him with another 
ointment ; later she brought him dinner, and returned 
in the evening with supper. The next day she went 
through the same ceremony. 

" Who are you } " Candide kept asking her. " Who 


has inspired you with so much kindness ? How can I 
thank you ? " 

The good woman never made any reply ; she returned 
in the evening without any supper. 

" Come with me," said she, " and do not speak a 

She took him by the arm and walked into the country 
with him for about a quarter of a mile ; they came to an 
isolated house, surrounded with gardens and canals. 
The old woman knocked at a little door. It was opened ; 
she led Candide up a back stairway into a gilded apart- 
ment, left him on a brocaded sofa, shut the door and 
went away. Candide thought he was dreaming, and felt 
that his whole life was a bad dream and the present 
moment an agreeable dream. 

The old woman soon reappeared ; she was supporting 
with some difficulty a trembling woman of majestic 
stature, glittering with precious stones and covered with 
a veil. 

** Remove the veil," said the old woman to Candide. 
The young man advanced and lifted the veil with a 
timid hand. What a moment 1 What a surprise ! He 
thought he saw Miss Cunegonde, in fact he was looking 
at her, it was she herself. His strength failed him, he 
could not utter a word and fell at her feet. Cunegonde 
fell on the sofa. The old woman dosed them with 
distilled waters ; they recovered their senses and began 
to speak : at first they uttered only broken words, ques- 
tions and answers at cross purposes, sighs, tears, exclama- 
tions. The old woman advised them to make less noise 
and left them alone. 

** What ! Is it you } " said Candide. " You are alive, 
and I find you here in Portugal ! Then you were not 
raped ? Your belly was not slit, as the philosopher 
Pangloss assured me ? " 

** Yes, indeed," said the fair Cunegonde ; " but those 
two accidents are not always fatal." 



*' But your father and mother were killed ? " 

** 'Tis only too true," said Cunegonde, weeping. 

** And your brother ? " 

*' My brother was killed too." 

*' And why are you in Portugal ? And how did you 
know I was here ? And by what strange adventure 
have you brought me to this house ? " 

" I will tell you everything," replied the lady, "but 
first of all you must tell me everything that has happened 
to you since the innocent kiss you gave me and the kicks 
you received." 

Candide obeyed with profound respect ; and, although 
he was bewildered, although his voice was weak and 
trembling, although his back was still a little painful, he 
related in the most natural manner all he had endured 
since the moment of their separation. Cunegonde raised 
her eyes to Heaven ; she shed tears at the death of the 
good Anabaptist and Pangloss, after which she spoke 
as follows to Candide, who did not miss a word and 
devoured her with his eyes. 


Cunegondes Story 

" "^^ WAS fast asleep in bed when it pleased Heaven 
I to send the Bulgarians to our noble castle of 
■ Thunder-ten-tronckh ; they murdered my father 

JL and brother and cut my mother to pieces. A 
large Bulgarian six feet tall, seeing that I had swooned 
at the spectacle, began to rape me ; this brought me to, 
I recovered my senses, I screamed, I struggled, I bit, I 
scratched, I tried to tear out the big Bulgarian's eyes, 
not knowing that what was happening in my father's 
castle was a matter of custom ; the brute stabbed me 
with a knife in the left side where I still have the scar." 

" Alas ! I hope I shall see it," said the naif Candide. 

" You shall see it," said Cunegonde, ** but let me 
go on." 

'* Go on," said Candide. 

She took up the thread of her story as follows : 

" A Bulgarian captain came in, saw me covered with 
blood, and the soldier did not disturb himself. The 
captain was angry at the brute's lack of respect to him, 
and killed him on my body. Afterwards, he had me 
bandaged and took me to his billet as a prisoner of war. 
I washed the few shirts he had and did the cooking ; I 


must admit he thought me very pretty ; and I will not 
deny that he was very well built and that his skin was 
white and soft ; otherwise he had little wit and little 
philosophy ; it was plain that he had not been brought 
up by Dr. Pangloss. At the end of three months he 
lost all his money and got tired of me ; he sold me to a 
Jew named Don Issachar, who traded in Holland and 
Portugal and had a passion for women. This Jew 
devoted himself to my person but he could not triumph 
over it ; I resisted him better than the Bulgarian soldier ; 
a lady of honour may be raped once, but it strengthens 
her virtue. In order to subdue me, the Jew brought 
me to this country house. Up till then I believed that 
there was nothing on earth so splendid as the castle of 
Thunder-ten-tronckh ; I was undeceived. 

" One day the Grand Inquisitor noticed me at Mass ; 
he ogled me continually and sent a message that he 
wished to speak to me on secret affairs. I was taken to 
his palace ; I informed him of my birth ; he pointed 
out how much it was beneath my rank to belong to an 
Israelite. A proposition was made on his behalf to Don 
Issachar to give me up to His Lordship. Don Issachar, 
who is the court banker and a man of influence, would 
not agree. The Inquisitor threatened him with an auto- 
da-fe. At last the Jew was frightened and made a bargain 
whereby the house and I belong to both in common. 
The Jew has Mondays, Wednesdays and the Sabbath 
day, and the Inquisitor has the other days of the week. 
This arrangement has lasted for six months. It has not 
been without quarrels ; for it has often been debated 
whether the night between Saturday and Sunday belonged 
to the old law or the new. For my part, I have hitherto 
resisted them both ; and I think that is the reason why 
they still love me. 

" At last My Lord the Inquisitor was pleased to 
arrange an auto-da-fe to remove the scourge of earth- 
quakes and to intimidate Don Issachar. He honoured 



me with an invitation. I had an excellent seat ; and 
refreshments were served to the ladies between the Mass 
and the execution. I was indeed horror-stricken when 
I saw the burning of the two Jews and the honest 
Biscayan who had married his fellow-godmother ; but 
what was my surprise, my terror, my anguish, when I 
saw in a sanbenito and under a mitre a face which 
resembled Pangloss's ! I rubbed my eyes, I looked 
carefully, I saw him hanged ; and I fainted. I had 
scarcely recovered my senses when I saw you stripped 
naked ; that was the height of horror, of consternation, 
of grief and despair. I will frankly tell you that your 
skin is even whiter and of a more perfect tint than that 
of my Bulgarian captain. This spectacle redoubled all 
the feelings which crushed and devoured me. I ex- 
claimed, I tried to say ; * Stop, barbarians ! ' but my 
voice failed and my cries would have been useless. 
When you had been well flogged, I said to myself: 
* How does it happen that the charming Candide and 
the wise Pangloss are in Lisbon, the one to receive a 
hundred lashes, and the other to be hanged, by order of 
My Lord the Inquisitor, whose darling I am ? Pangloss 
deceived me cruelly when he said that all is for the best 
in the world.* 

" I was agitated, distracted, sometimes beside myself 
and sometimes ready to die of faintness, and my head 
was filled with the massacre of my father, of my mother, 
of my brother, the insolence of my horrid Bulgarian 
soldier, the gash he gave me, my slavery, my life as a 
kitchen-wench, my Bulgarian captain, my horrid Don 
Issachar, my abominable Inquisitor, the hanging of Dr. 
Pangloss, that long plain-song miserere during which you 
were flogged, and above all the kiss I gave you behind 
the screen that day when I saw you for the last time. I 
praised God for bringing you back to me through so 
many trials, I ordered my old woman to take care of 
you and to bring you here as soon as she could. She 



has carried out my commission very well ; I have enjoyed 
the inexpressible pleasure of seeing you again, of listening 
to you, and of speaking to you. You must be very 
hungry ; I have a good appetite ; let us begin by having 

Both sat down to supper; and after supper they 
returned to the handsome sofa we have already men- 
tioned ; they were still there when Signor Don Issachar, 
one of the masters of the house, arrived. It was the 
day of the Sabbath. He came to enjoy his rights and 
to express his tender love. 


What happened to Cunegonde^ to Candide^ to the Grand 
Inquisitor and to a Jew 

THIS Issachar was the most choleric Hebrew 
who had been seen in Israel since the Babylonian 
" What ! " said he. " Bitch of a Galilean, 
isn't it enough to have the Inquisitor ? Must this 
scoundrel share with me too ? " 

So saying, he drew a long dagger which he always 
carried and, thinking that his adversary was unarmed, 
threw himself upon Candide ; but our good Westphalian 
had received an excellent sword from the old woman 
along with his suit of clothes. He drew his sword, 
and although he had a most gentle character, laid the 
Israelite stone-dead on the floor at the feet of the fair 

" Holy Virgin 1 " she exclaimed, " what will become 
of us } A man killed in my house 1 If the police come 
we are lost." 

*' If Pangloss had not been hanged," said Candide, 
" he would have given us good advice in this extremity, 
for he was a great philosopher. In default of him, let 
us consult the old woman." 

She was extremely prudent and was beginning to give 
her advice when another little door opened. It was an 
hour after midnight, and Sunday was beginning. 

This day belonged to My Lord the Inquisitor. He 
came in and saw the flogged Candide sword in hand, a 
corpse lying on the ground, Cunegonde in terror, and 
the old woman giving advice. 


At this moment, here is what happened in Candide's 
soul and the manner of his reasoning : 

" If this holy man calls for help, he will infallibly 
have me burned ; he might do as much to Cunegonde ; 
he had me pitilessly lashed ; he is my rival ; I am in the 
mood to kill, there is no room for hesitation." 

His reasoning was clear and swift; and, without giving 
the Inquisitor time to recover from his surprise, he 
pierced him through and through and cast him beside 
the Jew. 

*' Here's another," said Cunegonde, " there is no 
chance of mercy; we are excommunicated, our last 
hour has come. How does it happen that you, who 
were born so mild, should kill a Jew and a prelate in 
two minutes ? " 

" My dear young lady," replied Candide, " when a 
man is in love, jealous, and has been flogged by the 
Inquisition, he is beside himself." 

The old woman then spoke up and said : 

" In the stable are three Andalusian horses, with their 
saddles and bridles ; let the brave Candide prepare them ; 
madam has moidores and diamonds; let us mount 
quickly, although I can only sit on one buttock, and go 
to Cadiz; the weather is beautifully fine, and it is most 
pleasant to travel in the coolness of the night." 

Candide immediately saddled the three horses. Cune- 
gonde, the old woman and he rode thirty miles without 

While they were riding away, the Holy Hermandad 
arrived at the house ; My Lord was buried in a splendid 
church and Issachar was thrown into a sewer. 

Candide, Cunegonde and the old woman had already 
reached the little town of Avacena in the midst of the 
mountains of the Sierra Morena ; and they talked in 
their inn as follows. 




How Candide, Cunegonde and the old woman arrived at 
Cadiz in great distress^ and how they embarked 

•' 'W 'W' THO can have stolen my pistoles and my 

% M / diamonds ? ** said Cunegonde, weeping. 

^U ^ " How shall we live ? What shall we do ? 

▼ ▼ Where shall we find Inquisitors and Jews 

to give me others ? " 

" Alas ! " said the old woman, ** I strongly suspect a 
reverend Franciscan father who slept in the same inn at 
Badajoz with us ; Heaven forbid that I should judge 
rashly ! But he twice came into our room and left long 
before we did." 

" Alas ! " said Candide, " the good Pangloss often 
proved to me that this world's goods are common to all 
men and that everyone has an equal right to them. 
According to these principles the monk should have left 
us enough to continue our journey. Have you nothing 
left then, my fair Cunegonde } " 

" Not a maravedi," said she. 

** What are we to do .? " said Candide. 

" Sell one of the horses," said the old woman. " I 
will ride postillion behind Miss Cunegonde, although I 
can only sit on one buttock, and we will get to Cadiz." 

In the same hotel there was a Benedictine friar. He 
bought the horse very cheap. Candide, Cunegonde and 
the old woman passed through Lucena, Chillas, Lebrixa, 
and at last reached Cadiz. A fleet was there being 
equipped and troops were being raised to bring to reason 
the reverend Jesuit fathers of Paraguay, who were accused 
of causing the revolt of one of their tribes against the 
E 31 


kings of Spain and Portugal near the town of Sacramento. 
Candide, having served with the Bulgarians, went through 
the Bulgarian drill before the general of the little army 
with so much grace, celerity, skill, pride and agility, that 
he was given the command of an infantry company. 
He was now a captain ; he embarked with Miss Cune- 
gonde, the old woman, two servants, and the two Anda- 
lusian horses which had belonged to the Grand Inquisitor 
of Portugal. 

During the voyage they had many discussions about 
the philosophy of poor Pangloss. 

** We are going to a new world," said Candide, ** and 
no doubt it is there that everything is for the best ; for 
it must be admitted that one might lament a little over 
the physical and moral happenings in our own world.** 

** I love you with all my heart," said Cunegonde, 
** but my soul is still shocked by what I have seen and 

** All will be well," replied Candide ; ** the sea in 
this new world already is better than the seas of our 
Europe ; it is calmer and the winds are more constant. 
It is certainly the new world which is the best of all 
possible worlds." 

" God grant it ! " said Cunegonde, '* but I have been 
so horribly unhappy in mine that my heart is nearly 
closed to hope.'* 

" You complain," said the old woman to them. 
** Alas 1 you have not endured such misfortunes as 

Cunegonde almost laughed and thought it most 
amusing of the old woman to assert that she was more 

** Alas 1 my dear," said she, ** unless you have been 
raped by two Bulgarians, stabbed twice in the belly, 
have had two castles destroyed, two fathers and mothers 
murdered before your eyes, and have seen two of your 
lovers flogged in an auto-da-fe^ I do not see how you can 



surpass me ; moreover, I was born a Baroness with 
seventy-two quarterings and I have been a kitchen- 

'* You do not know my birth," said the old woman, 
" and if I showed you my backside you would not talk 
as you do and you would suspend your judgment." 

This speech aroused intense curiosity in the minds of 
Cunegonde and Candide. And the old woman spoke as 


The old woman*s story 

Y eyes were not always bloodshot and red- 
rimmed ; my nose did not always touch 

my chin and I was not always a servant. 
I am the daughter of Pope Urban X and 
the Princess of Palestrina.^ Until I was fourteen I was 
brought up in a palace to which all the castles of your 
German Barons would not have served as stables ; and 
one of my dresses cost more than all the magnificence 
of Westphalia. I increased in beauty, in grace, in talents, 
among pleasures, respect and hopes ; already I inspired 
love, my breasts were forming ; and what breasts ! 
White, firm, carved like those of the Venus de* Medici. 
And what eyes 1 What eyelids ! What black eyebrows I 
What fire shone from my two eyeballs, and dimmed the 
glitter of the stars, as the local poets pointed out to me. 
The women who dressed and undressed me fell into 
ecstasy when they beheld me in front and behind ; and 
all the men would have liked to be in their place. 

" I was betrothed to a ruling prince of Massa-Carrara. 
What a prince I As beautiful as I was, formed of 
gentleness and charms, brilliantly witty and burning with 
love ; I loved him with a first love, idolatrously and 
extravagantly. The marriage ceremonies were arranged 
with unheard-of pomp and magnificence ; there were 
continual fStes, revels and comic operas ; all Italy wrote 
sonnets for me, and not a good one among them. 

* A posthumously printed note of Voltaire's on this passage runs as 

follows : " Notice die author's extreme discretion ; up till now there has 

never been any Pope called Urban X ; he shrank from giving a bastard to 

a known Pope. What circumspection ! What conscientious delicacy 1 " 



** I touched the moment of my happiness when an 
old marchioness who had been my prince's mistress 
invited him to take chocolate with her; less than two 
hours afterwards he died in horrible convulsions ; but 
that is only a trifle. My mother was in despair, though 
less distressed than I, and wished to absent herself for a 
time from a place so disastrous. She had a most beautiful 
estate near Gaeta ; we embarked on a galley, gilded like 
the altar of St. Peter's at Rome. A Salle pirate swooped 
down and boarded* us; our soldiers defended us like 
soldiers of the Pope ; they threw down their arms, fell 
on their knees and asked the pirates for absolution in 
artkulo mortis. 

" They were immediately stripped as naked as monkeys 
and my mother, our ladies of honour and myself as well. 
The diligence with which these gentlemen strip people 
is truly admirable ; but I was still more surprised by 
their inserting a finger in a place belonging to all of us 
where we women usually only allow the end of a syringe. 
This appeared to me a very strange ceremony ; but that 
is how we judge everything when we leave our own 
country. I soon learned that it was to find out if we 
had hidden any diamonds there ; 'tis a custom established 
from time immemorial among the civilised nations who 
roam the seas. I have learned that the religious Knights 
of Malta never fail in it when they capture Turks and 
Turkish women ; this is an international law which has 
never been broken. 

** I will not tell you how hard it is for a young princess 
to be taken with her mother as a slave to Morocco ; you 
will also guess all we had to endure in the pirates' ship. 
My mother was still very beautiful ; our ladies of honour, 
even our waiting-maids possessed more charms than 
could be found in all Africa ; and I was ravishing, I was 
beauty, grace itself, and I wrs a virgin ; I did not remain 
so long ; the flower which had been reserved for the 
handsome prince of Massa-Carrara was ravished from 


me by a pirate captain ; he was an abominable negro 
who thought he was doing me a great honour. The 
Princess of Palestrina and I must indeed have been 
strong to bear up against all we endured before our 
arrival in Morocco ! But let that pass ; these things 
are so common that they are not worth mentioning. 

** Morocco was swimming in blood when we arrived. 
The fifty sons of the Emperor Muley Ismael had each a 
faction ; and this produced fifty civil wars, of blacks 
against blacks, browns against browns, mulattoes against 
mulattoes. There was continual carnage throughout the 
whole extent of the empire. 

" Scarcely had we landed when the blacks of a party 
hostile to that of my pirate arrived with the purpose of 
depriving him of his booty. After the diamonds and 
the gold, we were the most valuable possessions. I 
witnessed a fight such as is never seen in your European 
climates. The blood of the northern peoples is not 
sufficiently ardent; their madness for women does not 
reach the point which is common in Africa. The 
Europeans seem to have milk in their veins ; but vitriol 
and fire flow in the veins of the inhabitants of Mount 
Atlas and the neighbouring countries. They fought with 
the fury of the lions, tigers and serpents of the country 
to determine who should have us. A Moor grasped 
my mother by the right arm, my captain's lieutenant 
held her by the left arm ; a Moorish soldier held one 
leg and one of our pirates seized the other. In a moment 
nearly all our women were seized in the same way by 
four soldiers. My captain kept me hidden behind him ; 
he had a scimitar in his hand and killed everybody who 
opposed his fury. I saw my mother and all our Italian 
women torn in pieces, gashed, massacred by the monsters 
who disputed them. The prisoners, my companions, 
those who had captured them, soldiers, sailors, blacks, 
browns, whites, mulattoes and finally my captain were 
all killed and I remained expiring on a heap of corpses. 



As everyone knows, such scenes go on in an area of 
more than three hundred square leagues and yet no one 
ever fails to recite the five daily prayers ordered by 

*• With great difficulty I extricated myself from the 
bloody heaps of corpses and dragged myself to the foot 
of a large orange-tree on the bank of a stream ; there 
I fell down with terror, weariness, horror, despair and 
hunger. Soon afterwards, my exhausted senses fell into 
a sleep which was more like a swoon than repose. I 
was in this state of weakness and insensibility between 
life and death when I felt myself oppressed by something 
which moved on my body. I opened my eyes and saw 
a white man of good appearance who was sighing and 
muttering between his teeth : O che sciagura d'essere 
senza coglioni I 


Continuation of the old woman's misfortunes 

AMAZED and delighted to hear my native 
language, and not less surprised at the words 
spoken by this man, I replied that there were 
greater misfortunes than that of which he 
complained. In a few words I informed him of the 
horrors I had undergone and then swooned again. He 
carried me to a neighbouring house, had me put to bed, 
gave me food, waited on me, consoled me, flattered me, 
told me he had never seen anyone so beautiful as I, and 
that he had never so much regretted that which no one 
could give back to him. 

" ' I was born at Naples,* he said, * and every year 
they make two or three thousand children there into 
capons ; some die of it, others acquire voices more 
beautiful than women's, and others become the governors 
of States. This operation was performed upon me with 
very great success and I was a musician in the chapel of 
the Princess of Palestrina.' 

** * Of my mother,' I exclaimed. 

** * Of your mother ! * cried he, weeping. * What ! 
Are you that young princess I brought up to the age of 
six and who even then gave promise of bemg as beautiful 
as you are } ' 

** ' I am 1 my mother is four hundred yards from 
here, cut into quarters under a heap of corpses. . . .* 

" I related all that had happened to me ; he also told 

me his adventures and informed me how he had been 

sent to the King of Morocco by a Christian power to 

make a treaty with that monarch whereby he was supplied 




with powder, cannons and ships to help to exterminate 
the commerce of other Christians. 

" * My mission is accomplished,* said this honest 
eunuch, ' I am about to embark at Ceuta and I will 
take you back to Italy Ma che sciagura d' ess ere senza 
coglioni ! ' 

** I thanked him with tears of gratitude ; and instead 
of taking me back to Italy he conducted me to Algiers 
and sold me to the Dey. I had scarcely been sold when 
the plague which had gone through Africa, Asia and 
Europe broke out furiously in Algiers. You have seen 
earthquakes ; but have you ever seen the plague ? " 

" Never," replied the Baroness. 

" If you had," replied the old woman, '* you would 
admit that it is much worse than an earthquake. It is 
very common in Africa; I caught it. Imagine the 
situation of a Pope's daughter aged fifteen, who in three 
months had undergone poverty and slavery, had been 
raped nearly every day, had seen her mother cut into 
four pieces, had undergone hunger and war, and was 
now dying of the plague in Algiers. However, I did 
not die ; but my eunuch and the Dey and almost all the 
seraglio of Algiers perished. 

** When the first ravages of this frightful plague were 
over, the Dey's slaves were sold. A merchant bought 
me and carried me to Tunis ; he sold me to another 
merchant who re-sold me at Tripoli ; from Tripoli I 
was re-sold to Alexandria, from Alexandria re-sold to 
Smyrna, from Smyrna to Constantinople. I was finally 
bought by an Aga of the Janizaries, who was soon 
ordered to defend Azov against the Russians who were 
besieging it. 

" The Aga, who was a man of great gallantry, took 
his whole seraglio with him, and lodged us in a little 
fort on the islands of Palus-Maeotis, guarded by two 
black eunuchs and twenty soldiers. He killed a pro- 
digious number of Russians, but they returned the com- 


pliment as well. Azov was given up to fire and blood, 
neither sex nor age was pardoned ; only our little fort 
remained ; and the enemy tried to reduce it by starving 
us. The twenty Janizaries had sworn never to surrender 
us. The extremities of hunger to which they were 
reduced forced them to eat our two eunuchs for fear of 
breaking their oath. Some days later they resolved to 
eat the women. 

** We had with us a most pious and compassionate 
Imam who delivered a fine sermon to them by which 
he persuaded them not to kill us altogether. 

** * Cut,' said he, * only one buttock from each of these 
ladies and you will make very good cheer ; if you have 
to return, there will still be as much left in a few days ; 
Heaven will be pleased at so charitable an action and 
you will be saved.* 

** He was very eloquent and persuaded them. This 
horrible operation was performed upon us ; the Imam 
anointed us with the same balm that is used for children 
who have just been circumcised ; we were all at the 
point of death. 

*' Scarcely had the Janizaries finished the meal we 
had supplied when the Russians arrived in flat-bottomed 
boats ; not a Janizary escaped. The Russians paid no 
attention to the state we were in. There are French 
doctors everywhere ; one of them who was very skilful, 
took care of us ; he healed us, and I shall remember all 
my life that, when my wounds were cured, he made 
propositions to me. For the rest, he told us all to cheer 
up ; he told us that the same thing had happened in 
several sieges and that it was a law of war. 

" As soon as my companions could walk they were 
sent to Moscow. I fell to the lot of a Boyar who made 
me his gardener and gave me twenty lashes a day. But 
at the end of two years this lord was broken on the 
wheel* with thirty other Boyars owing to some court 
disturbance, and I profited by this adventure ; I fled ; 


I crossed all Russia ; for a long time I was servant in 
an inn at Riga, then at Rostock, at Wismar, at Leipzig, 
at Cassel, at Utrecht, at Leyden, at the Hague, at Rotter- 
dam ; I have grown old in misery and in shame, with 
only half a backside, always remembering that I was the 
daughter of a Pope ; a hundred times I wanted to kill 
myself, but I still loved life. This ridiculous weakness 
is perhaps the most disastrous of our inclinations ; for 
is there anything sillier than to desire to bear continually 
a burden one always wishes to throw on the ground ; 
to look upon oneself with horror and yet to cling to 
oneself; in short, to caress the serpent which devours 
us until he has eaten our heart ? 

'* In the countries it has been my fate to traverse and 
in the inns where I have served I have seen a prodigious 
number of people who hated their lives ; but I have 
only seen twelve who voluntarily put an end to their 
misery : three negroes, four Englishmen, four Genevans 
and a German professor named Robeck. I ended up as 
servant to the Jew, Don Issachar ; he placed me in your 
service, my fair young lady ; I attached myself to your 
fate and have been more occupied with your adventures 
than with my own. I should never even have spoken 
of my misfortunes, if you had not piqued me a little 
and if it had not been the custom on board ship to tell 
stories to pass the time. In short. Miss, I have had 
experience, I know the world ; provide yourself with an 
entertainment, make each passenger tell you his story ; 
and if there is one who has not often cursed his life, who 
has not often said to himself that he was the most unfor- 
tunate of men, throw me head-first into the sea." 



How Candide was obliged to separate from the fair Cune- 
gonde and the old woman 

HE fair Cunegonde, having heard the old 
woman's story, treated her with all the polite- 
ness due to a person of her rank and merit. 
She accepted the proposition and persuaded 
all the passengers one after the other to tell her their 
adventures. She and Candide admitted that the old 
woman was right. 

*' It was most unfortunate," said Candide, ** that 
the wise Pangloss was hanged contrary to custom at an 
auto-da-fe ; he would have said admirable things about 
the physical and moral evils which cover the earth and 
the sea, and I should feel myself strong enough to urge 
a few objections with all due respect." 

While each of the passengers was telling his story 
the ship proceeded on its way. They arrived at Buenos 
Ayres. Cunegonde, Captain Candide and the old 
woman went to call on the governor, Don Fernando 
d'Ibaraa y Figueora y Mascarenes y Lampourdos y 
Souza. This gentleman had the pride befittmg a man 
who owned so many names. He talked to men with a 
most noble disdain, turning his nose up so far, raising 


his voice so pitilessly, assuming so imposing a tone, 
affecting so lofty a carriage, that all who addressed him 
were tempted to give him a thrashing. He had a furious 
passion for women. Cunegonde seemed to him the 
most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The first 
thing he did was to ask if she were the Captain's wife. 
The air with which he asked this question alarmed 
Candide; he did not dare say that she was his wife, 
because as a matter of fact she was not ; he dared not 
say she was his sister, because she was not that either ; 
and although this official lie was formerly extremely 
fashionable among the ancients, and might be useful 
to the moderns, his soul was too pure to depart from 

** Miss Cunegonde," said he, ** is about to do me the 
honour of marrying me, and we beg your excellency to 
be present at the wedding." 

Don Fernando d'Ibaraa y Figueora y Mascarenes y 
Lampourdos y Souza twisted his moustache, smiled 
bitterly and ordered Captain Candide to go and inspect 
his company. Candide obeyed ; the governor remamed 
with Miss Cunegonde. He declared his passion, vowed 
that the next day he would marry her publicly, or other- 
wise, as it might please her charms. Cunegonde asked 
for a quarter of an hour to collect herself, to consult 
the old woman and to make up her mind. 

The old woman said to Cunegonde : 

** You have seventy-two quarterings and you haven't 
a shilling; it is in your power to be the wife of the 
greatest Lord in South America, who has an exceedingly 
fine moustache; is it for you to pride yourself on a 
rigid fidelity ? You have been raped by Bulgarians ; a 
Jew and an Inquisitor have enjoyed your good graces; 
misfortunes confer certain rights. If I were in your 
place, I confess I should not have the least scruple in 
marrying the governor and making Captain Candide's 


While the old woman was speaking with all that 
prudence which comes from age and experience, they 
saw a small ship come into the harbour ; an Alcayde 
and some Alguazils were on board, and this is what 
had happened. 

The old woman had guessed correctly thdt it was a 
long-sleeved monk who stole Cunegonde's money and 
jewels at Badajoz, when she was flying in all haste with 
Candide. The monk tried to sell some of the gems to 
a jeweller. The merchant recognised them as the 
property of the Grand Inquisitor. Before the monk 
was hanged he confessed that he had stolen them ; he 
described the persons and the direction they were taking. 
The flight of Cunegonde and Candide was already 
known. They were followed to Cadiz; without any 
waste of time a vessel was sent in pursuit of them. The 
vessel was already in the harbour at Buenos Ayres. 
The rumour spread that an Alcayde was about to land 
and that he was in pursuit of the murderers of His 
Lordship the Grand Inquisitor. The prudent old 
woman saw in a moment what was to be done. 

" You cannot escape," she said to Cunegonde, ** and 
you have nothing to fear; you did not kill His Lord- 
ship; moreover, the governor is in love with you and 
will not allow you to be maltreated ; stay here.** 

She ran to Candide at once. 

" Fly," said she, " or in an hour's time you will be 

There was not a moment to lose ; but how could he 
leave Cunegonde and where could he take refuge ? 


Hoiv Candide and Cacambo were received by the Jesuits 
in Paraguay 

CANDIDE had brought from Cadiz a valet of a 
sort which is very common on the coasts of 
Spain and in the colonies. He was one-quarter 
Spanish, the child of a half-breed in Tucuman ; 
he had been a choir-boy, a sacristan, a sailor, a monk, a 
postman, a soldier and a lackey. His name was Cacambo 
and he loved his master because his master was a very 
good man. He saddled the two Andalusian horses with 
all speed. 

" Come, master, we must follow the old woman's 
advice ; let us be off and ride without looking behind 

Candide shed tears. 

" O my dear Cunegonde ! Must I abandon you 
just when the governor was about to marry us I Cune- 
gonde, brought here from such a distant land, what 
will become of you ? " 

*' She will become what she can," said Cacambo. 
** Women never trouble about themselves ; God will 
see to her ; let us be off." 

** Where are you taking me } Where are we going ? 
What shall we do without Cunegonde } " said Candide. 

'* By St. James of Compostella," said Cacambo, *' you 
were going to fight the Jesuits ; let us go and fight for 
them ; I know the roads, I will take you to their king- 
dom, they will be charmed to have a Captain who can 
drill in the Bulgarian fashion ; you will make a pro- 


digious fortune ; when a man fails in one world, he 
succeeds in another. *Tis a very great pleasure to see 
and do new things." 

** Then you have been in Paraguay ? " said Candide. 
I* ** Yes, indeed," said Cacambo. ** I was servitor in 
' the College of the Assumption, and I know the govern- 
ment of Los Padres as well as I know the streets of 
Cadiz. Their government is a most admirable thing. 
The kingdom is already more than three hundred 
leagues in diameter and is divided into thirty provinces. 
Los Padres have everything and the people have nothing ; 
'tis the masterpiece of reason and justice. For my part, 
I know nothing so divine as Los Padres who here make 
war on the Kings of Spain and Portugal and in Europe 
act as their confessors ; who here kill Spaniards and at 
Madrid send them to Heaven ; all this delights me ; 
come on ; you will be the happiest of men. What a 
pleasure it will be to Los Padres when they know there 
IS coming to them a captain who can drill in the Bulgarian 
manner 1 " 

As soon as they reached the first barrier, Cacambo 
told the picket that a captain wished to speak to the 
Commandant. This information was carried to the 
main guard. A Paraguayan officer ran to the feet of 
the Commandant to tell him the news. Candide and 
Cacambo were disarmed and their two Andalusian 
horses were taken from them. The two strangers were 
brought in between two ranks of soldiers ; the Com- 
mandant was at the end, with a three-cornered hat on 
his head, his gown tucked up, a sword at his side and a 
spontoon in his hand. He made a sign and immediately 
the two new-comers were surrounded by twenty-four 
soldiers. A sergeant told them that they must wait, 
that the Commandant could not speak tg them, that 
the reverend provincial father did not allow any Spaniard 
to open his mouth in his presence or to remain more 
than three hours in the country. 


COhot can be tli< sufficient reo^son for thi> phenomenon? 



" And where is the reverend provincial father ? " said 

"He is pn parade after having said Mass, and you 
will have to wait three hours before you will be allowed 
to kiss his spurs." 

" Bi^t," said Cacambo, " the captain, who is dying of 
hunger just as I am, is not a Spaniard but a German ; 
can we not break our fast while we are waiting for his 
reverence ? " 

The sergeant went at once to inform the Commandant 
of this. 

" Blessed be God ! " said that lord. " Since he is a 
German I can speak to him ; bring him to my arbour." 

Candide was immediately taken to a leafy summer- 
house decorated with a very pretty colonnade of green 
marble and gold, and lattices enclosing parrots, hum- 
ming-birds, colibris, guinea-hens and many other rare 
birds. An excellent breakfast stood ready in gold 
dishes; and while the Paraguayans were eating maize 
from wooden bowls, out of doors and in the heat of 
the sun, the reverend father Commandant entered the 

He was a very handsome young man, with a full 
face, a fairly white skin, red cheeks, arched eyebrows, 
keen eyes, red ears, vermilion lips, a haughty air, but 
a haughtiness which was neither that of a Spaniard 
nor of a Jesuit. Candide and Cacambo were given 
back the arms which had been taken from them and 
their two Andalusian horses ; Cacambo fed them with 
oats near the arbour, and kept his eye on them for fear 
of a surprise. 

Candide first kissed the hem of the Commandant's 
gown and then they sat down to table. 

** So you are a German ? " said the Jesuit in that 

** Yes, reverend father," said Candide. 

As they spoke these words they gazed at each other 


with extreme surprise and an emotion they could not 

'* And what part of Germany do you come from ? " 
said the Jesuit. 

" From the filthy province of Westphalia," said 
Candide ; "I was born in the castle of Thunder-ten- 

" Heavens ! Is it possible ! " cried the Commandant. 

*' What a miracle ! " cried Candide. 

" Can it be you ? " said the Commandant. 

** *Tis impossible ! " said Candide. 

They both fell over backwards, embraced and shed 
rivers of tears. 

" What ! Can it be you, reverend father .? You, 
the fair Cunegonde's brother 1 You, who were killed 
by the Bulgarians ! You, the son of My Lord the 
Baron 1 You, a Jesuit in Paraguay I The world is 
indeed a strange place ! O Pangloss 1 Pangloss I How 
happy you would have been if you had not been hanged 1 " 

The Commandant sent away the negro slaves and 
the Paraguayans who were serving wine in goblets of 
rock-crystal. A thousand times did he thank God and 
St. Ignatius \ he clasped Candide in his arms ; their 
faces were wet with tears. 

** You would be still more surprised, more touched, 
more beside yourself," said Candide, ** if I were to tell 
you that Miss Cunegonde, your sister, whom you 
thought disembowelled, is in the best of health." 

*• Where .? " 

" In your neighbourhood, with the governor of 
Buenos Ayres ; and I came to make war on you." 

Every word they spoke in this long conversation piled 
marvel on marvel. Their whole souls flew from their 
tongues, listened in their ears and sparkled in their eyes. 
As they were Germans, they sat at table for a long time, 
waiting for the reverend provincial father; and the 
Commandant spoke as follows to his dear Candide. 


How Candide killed his dear Cunegonde' s brother 

I SHALL remember all my life the horrible day 
when I saw my father and mother killed and my 
sister raped. When the Bulgarians had gone, 
my adorable sister could not be found, and my 
mother, my father and I, two maid-servants and three 
little murdered boys were placed in a cart to be buried 
in a Jesuit chapel two leagues from the castle of my 
fathers. A Jesuit sprinkled us with holy water ; it was 
horribly salt; a few drops fell in my eyes; the father 
noticed that my eyelid trembled, he put his hand on my 
heart and felt that it was still beating ; I was attended 
to and at the end of three weeks was as well as if nothing 
had happened. You know, my dear Candide, that I 
was a very pretty youth, and I became still prettier; 
and so the Reverend Father Croust, the Superior of the 
house, was inspired with a most tender friendship for 
me ; he gave me the dress of a novice and some time 
afterwards I was sent to Rome. The Father General 
wished to recruit some young German Jesuits. The 
sovereigns of Paraguay take as few Spanish Jesuits as 
they can ; they prefer foreigners, whom they think they 
can control better. The Reverend Father General 
thought me apt to labour in his vineyard. I set oflF 
with a Pole and a Tyrolese. When I arrived I was 
honoured with a subdeaconship and a lieutenancy; I 
am now colonel and priest. We shall give the King 
of Spain's troops a warm reception ; I guarantee they 
will be excommunicated and beaten. Providence has 
sent you here to help us. But is it really true that my 



dear sister Cunegonde is in the neighbourhood with 
the governor of Buenos Ay res ? ** 

Candide assured him on oath that nothing could be 
truer. Their tears began to flow once more. 

The Baron seemed never to grow tired of embracing 
Candide ; he called him his brother, his saviour. 

"Ah 1 My dear Candide," said he, " perhaps we 
shall enter the town together as conquerors and regain 
my sister Cunegonde." 

'* I desire it above all things," said Candide, '* for 
I meant to marry her and I still hope to do so." 

'* You, insolent wretch ! " replied the Baron. " Would 
you have the impudence to marry my sister who has 
seventy-two quarterings ! I consider you extremely 
impudent to dare to speak to me of such a foolhardy 
intention 1 " 

Candide, petrified at this speech, replied : 

*' Reverend Father, all the quarterings in the world 
are of no importance ; I rescued your sister from the 
arms of a Jew and an Inquisitor ; she is under con- 
siderable obligation to me and wishes to marry me. 
Dr. Pangloss always said that men are equal and I 
shall certainly marry her." 

** We shall see about that, scoundrel 1 " said the 
Jesuit Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh., at the same time 
hitting him violently in the face with the flat of his 
sword. Candide promptly drew his own and stuck it 
up to the hilt in the Jesuit Baron's belly, but, as he 
drew it forth smoking, he began to weep. 

" Alas 1 My God," said he, "I have killed my old 
master, my friend, my brother-in-law ; I am the mildest 
man in the world and I have already killed three men, 
two of them priests." 

Cacambo, who was acting as sentry at the door of 
the arbour, ran in. 

'* There is nothing left for us but to sell our lives 
dearly," said his master. " Somebody will certainly 



come into the arbour and we must die weapon in 

Cacambo, who had seen this sort of thing before, 
did not lose his head; he took off the Baron's Jesuit 
gown, put it on Candide, gave him the dead man's 
square bonnet, and made him mount a horse. All 
this was done in the twinkling of an eye. 

" Let us gallop, master ; everyone will take you for a 
Jesuit carrying orders and we shall have passed the 
frontiers before they can pursue us." 

As he spoke these words he started off at full speed 
and shouted in Spanish : 

" Way, way for the Reverend Father Colonel. . . .** 



fVhat happened to the two travellers with two girls, two 
monkeys, and the savages called Oreillons 

GANDIDE and his valet were past the barriers 
before anybody in the camp knew of the death 
of the German Jesuit. The vigilant Cacambo 
had taken care to fill his saddle-bag with bread, 
chocolate, ham, fruit, and several bottles of wine. On 
their Andalusian horses they plunged into an unknown 
country where they found no road. 

At last a beautiful plain traversed by streams met 
their eyes. Our two travellers put their horses to 
grass. Cacambo suggested to his master that they 
should eat and set the example. 

** How can you expect me to eat ham," said Candide, 
" when I have killed the son of My Lord the Baron 
and find myself condemned never to see the fair Cune- 
gonde again in my life ? What is the use of prolonging 
my miserable days since I must drag them out far from 
her in remorse and despair } And what will the Journal 
de Trevoux ^ say } " 

Speaking thus, he began to eat. The sun was set- 
ting. The two wanderers heard faint cries which seemed 
to be uttered by women. They could not tell whether 
these were cries of pain or of joy ; but they rose hastily 
with that alarm and uneasiness caused by everything in 
an unknown country. 

These cries came from two completely naked girls 

who were running gently along the edge of the plain, 

while two monkeys pursued them and bit their buttocks. 

Candide was moved to pity; he had learned to shoot 

^ A jotirnal published by the Jesuits. 



among the Bulgarians and could have brought down a 
nut from a tree without touching the leaves. He raised 
his double-barrelled Spanish gun, fired, and killed the 
two monkeys. 

" God be praised, my dear Cacambo, I have delivered 
these two poor creatures from a great danger; if I 
committed a sin by killing an Inquisitor and a Jesuit, 
I have atoned for it by saving the lives of these two 
girls. Perhaps they are young ladies of quality and this 
adventure may be of great advantage to us in this 

He was going on, but his tongue clove to the roof 
of his mouth when he saw the two girls tenderly kissing 
the two monkeys, shedding tears on their bodies and 
filling the air with the most piteous cries. 

** I did not expect so much human kindliness," he 
said at last to Cacambo, who replied : 

** You have performed a wonderful masterpiece ; you 
have killed the two lovers of these young ladies." 

** Their lovers I Can it be possible .? You are jesting 
at me, Cacambo ; how can I believe you ? " 

** My dear master," replied Cacambo, " you are 
always surprised by everything ; why should you think 
it so strange that in some countries there should be 
monkeys who obtain ladies' favours .? They are quarter 
men, as I am a quarter Spaniard." 

" Alas ! " replied Candide, *' I remember to have 
heard Dr. Pangloss say that similar accidents occurred 
in the past and that these mixtures produce Aigypans, 
fauns and satyrs ; that several eminent persons of 
antiquity have seen them ; but I thought they were 

*' You ought now to be convinced that it is true," 
said Cacambo, " and you see how people behave when 
they have not received a proper education ; the only 
thing I fear is that these ladies may get us into difficulty." 

These wise reflections persuaded Candide to leave the 


plain and to plunge into the woods. He ate supper 
there with Cacambo and, after having cursed the In- 
quisitor of Portugal, the governor of Buenos Ayres and 
the Baron, they went to sleep on the moss. When 
they woke up they found they could not move ; the 
reason was that during the night the Oreillons, the 
inhabitants of the country, to whom they had been 
denounced by the two ladies, had bound them with 
ropes made of bark. They were surrounded by fifty 
naked Oreillons, armed with arrows, clubs and stone 
hatchets. Some were boiling a large cauldron, others 
were preparing spits and they were all shouting : 

** Here's a Jesuit, here's a Jesuit ! We shall be 
revenged and have a good dinner ; let us eat the Jesuit, 
let us eat the Jesuit 1" 

** I told you so, my dear master," said Cacambo 
sadly. ** I knew those two girls would play us a dirty 

Candide perceived the cauldron and the spits and 
exclaimed : 

" We are certainly going to be roasted or boiled. 
Ah 1 What would Dr. Pangloss say if he saw what the 
pure state of nature is .'' All is well, granted ; but I 
confess it is very cruel to have lost Miss Cunegonde 
and to be spitted by the Oreillons." 

Cacambo never lost his head. 

** Do not despair," he said to the wretched Candide. 
" I understand a little of their dialect and I will speak 
to them." 

** Do not fail," said Candide, " to point out to them 
the dreadful inhumanity of cooking men and how very 
unchristian it is." 

** Gentlemen," said Cacambo, ** you mean to eat a 
Jesuit to-day } *Tis a good deed ; nothing could be 
more just than to treat one's enemies in this fashion. 
Indeed the law of nature teaches us to kill our neigh- 
bour and this is how people behave all over the world. 
If we do not exert the right of eating our neighbour, 


it is because we have other means of making good 
cheer ; but you have not the same resources as we, 
and it is certainly better to eat our enemies than to 
abandon the fruits of victory to ravens and crows. But, 
gentlemen, you would not wish to eat your friends. 
You believe you are about to place a Jesuit on the spit, 
and 'tis your defender, the enemy of your enemies, 
you are about to roast. I was born in your country; 
the gentleman you see here is my master and, far from 
being a Jesuit, he has just killed a Jesuit and is wearing 
his clothes ; which is the cause of your mistake. To 
verify what I say, take his gown, carry it to the first 
barrier of the kingdom of Los Padres and inquire whether 
my master has not killed a Jesuit officer. It will not 
take you long and you will have plenty of time to eat 
us if you find I have lied. But if I have told the truth, 
you are too well acquainted with the principles of public 
law, good morals and discipline not to pardon us." 

The Oreillons thought this a very reasonable speech ; 
they deputed two of their notables to go with all dili- 
gence and find out the truth. The two deputies acquitted 
themselves of their task like intelligent men and soon 
returned with the good news. 

The Oreillons unbound their two prisoners, over- 
whelmed them with civilities, offered them girls, gave 
them refreshment, and accompanied them to the frontiers 
of their dominions, shouting joyfully : 

" He is not a Jesuit, he is not a Jesuit ! " 

Candide could not cease from wondering at the 
cause of his deliverance. 

" What a nation," said he. " What men ! What 
manners 1 If I had not been so lucky as to stick my 
sword through the body of Miss Cunegonde's brother 
I should infallibly have been eaten. But, after all, 
there is something good in the pure state of nature, 
since these people, instead of eating me, offered me a 
thousand civilities as soon as they knew I was not a 


Arrival of Candide and his valet in the country of Eldorado 
and what they saw there 

WHEN they reached the frontiers of the 
Oreillons, Cacambo said to Candide : 
** You see this hemisphere is no better 
than the other; take my advice, let us go 
back to Europe by the shortest road." 

** How can we go back," said Candide, " and where 
can we go ? If I go to my own country, the Bulgarians 
and the Abares are murdering everybody; if I return 
to Portugal I shall be burned ; if we stay here, we run 
the risk of being spitted at any moment. But how can 
I make up my mind to leave that part af the world where 
Miss Cunegonde is living } " 

" Let us go to Cayenne," said Cacambo, ** we shall 
find Frenchmen there, for they go all over the world ; 
they might help us. Perhaps God will have pity on us." 

It was not easy to go to Cayenne. They knew 
roughly the direction to take, but mountains, rivers, 
precipices, brigands and savages were everywhere terrible 
obstacles. Their horses died of fatigue ; their pro- 
visions were exhausted ; for a whole month they lived 
on wild fruits and at last found themselves near a little 
river fringed with cocoanut-trees which supported their 
lives and their hopes. 

Cacambo, who always gave advice as prudent as the 
old woman's, said to Candide : 

" We can go no farther, we have walked far enough ; 
I can see an empty canoe in the bank, let us fill it with 
cocoanuts, get into the little boat and drift with the 


current; a river always leads to some inhabited place. 
If we do not find anything pleasant, we shall at least 
find something new." 

** Come on then," said Candide, ** and let us trust 
to Providence." 

They drifted for some leagues between banks which 
were sometimes flowery, sometimes bare, sometimes flat, 
sometimes steep. The river continually became wider ; 
finally it disappeared under an arch of frightful rocks 
which towered up to the very sky. The two travellers 
were bold enough to trust themselves to the current 
under this arch. The stream, narrowed between walls, 
carried them with horrible rapidity and noise. After 
twenty-four hours they saw daylight again ; but their 
canoe was wrecked on reefs ; they had to crawl from 
rock to rock for a whole league, and at last they dis- 
covered an immense horizon, bordered by inaccessible 
mountains. The country was cultivated for pleasure as 
well as for necessity ; everywhere the useful was agree- 
able. The roads were covered or rather ornamented 
with carriages of brilliant material and shape, carrying 
men and women of singular beauty, who were rapidly 
drawn along by large red sheep whose swiftness sur- 
passed that of the finest horses of Andalusia, Tetuan and 

** This country," said Candide, ** is better than West- 

He landed with Cacambo near the first village he 
came to. Several children of the village, dressed in 
torn gold brocade, were playing quoits outside the 
village. Our two men from the other world amused 
themselves by looking on ; their quoits were large round 

f)ieces, yellow, red and green, which shone with peculiar 
ustre. The travellers were curious enough to pick 
up some of them ; they were of gold, emeralds and 
rubies, the least of which would have been the greatest 
ornament in the Mogul's throne. 


" No doubt," said Cacambo, " these children are 
the sons of the King of this country playing at quoits." 

At that moment the village schoolmaster appeared 
to call them into school. 

** This," said Candide, ** is the tutor of the Royal 

The little beggars immediately left their game, aban- 
doning their quoits and everything with which they 
had been playing. Candide picked them up, ran to 
the tutor, and presented them to him humbly, giving 
him to understand by signs that their Royal Highnesses 
had forgotten their gold and their precious stones. 
The village schoolmaster smiled, threw them on the 
ground, gazed for a moment at Candide's face with 
much surprise and continued on his way. 

The travellers did not fail to pick up the gold, the 
rubies and the emeralds. 

** Where are we .'' " cried Candide. " The children 
of the King must be well brought up, since they are 
taught to despise gold and precious stones." 

Cacambo was as much surprised as Candide. At 
last they reached the first house in the village, which 
was built like a European palace. There were crowds 
of people round the door and still more inside ; very 
pleasant music could be heard and there was a delicious 
smell of cooking. Cacambo went up to the door and 
heard them speaking Peruvian ; it was his maternal 
tongue, for everyone knows that Cacambo was born in 
a village of Tucuman where nothing else is spoken. 

" I will act as your interpreter," he said to Candide ; 
** this is an inn, let us enter." 

Immediately two boys and two girls of the inn, dressed 
in cloth of gold, whose hair was bound up with ribbons, 
invited them to sit down to the table d'hote. They 
served four soups each garnished with two parrots, a 
boiled condor which weighed two hundred pounds, two 
roast monkeys of excellent flavour, three hundred colibris 


in one dish and six hundred humming-birds in another, 
exquisite ragouts and delicious pastries, all in dishes of a 
sort of rock-crystal. The boys and girls brought several 
sorts of drinks made of sugar-cane. 

Most of the guests were merchants and coachmen, 
all extremely polite, who asked Cacambo a few questions 
with the most delicate discretion and answered his in a 
satisfactory manner. 

When the meal was over, Cacambo, like Candide, 
thought he could pay the reckoning by throwing on 
the table two of the large pieces of gold he had picked 
up ; the host and hostess laughed until they had to 
hold their sides. At last they recovered themselves. 

" Gentlemen," said the host, ** we perceive you are 
strangers ; we are not accustomed to seeing them. For- 
,give us if we began to laugh when you offered us in 
payment the stones from our highways. No doubt you 
have none of the money of this country, but you do not 
need any to dine here. All the hotels established for 
the utility of commerce are paid for by the government. 
You have been ill entertained here because this is a poor 
village ; but everywhere else you will be received as you 
deserve to be." 

Cacambo explained to Candide all that the host had 
said, and Candide listened in the same admiration and 
disorder with which his friend Cacambo interpreted. 

" What can this country be," they said to each other, 
** which is unknown to the rest of the world and where 
all nature is so different from ours ? Probably it is the 
country where everything is for the best; for there 
must be one country of that sort. And, in spite of what 
Dr. Pangloss said, I often noticed that everything went 
very ill in Westphalia." 



What they saw in the land of Eldorado 

CACAMBO informed the host of his curiosity, 
and the host said : 
" I am a very ignorant man and am all the 
better for it ; but we have here an old man who 
has retired from the court and who is the most learned 
and most communicative man in the kingdom." 

And he at once took Cacambo to the old man. 
Candide now played only the second part and accom- 
panied his valet. 

They entered a very simple house, for the door was 
only of silver and the panelling of the apartments in 
gold, but so tastefully carved that the richest decorations 
did not surpass it. The antechamber indeed was only 
encrusted with rubies and emeralds ; but the order with 
which everything was arranged atoned for this extreme 

The old man received the two strangers on a sofa 
padded with colibri feathers, and presented them with 
drinks in diamond cups ; after which he satisfied their 
curiosity in these words : 

" I am a hundred and seventy-two years old and I 

heard from my late father, the King^s equerry, the 

astonishing revolutions of Peru of which he had been 

an eye-witness. The kingdom where we now are is 



the ancient country of the Incas, who most imprudently 
left it to conquer part of the world and were at last 
destroyed by the Spaniards. 

** The princes of their family who remained in their 
native country had more wisdom ; with the consent of 
the nation, they ordered that no inhabitants should ever 
leave our little kingdom, and this it is that has preserved 
our innocence and our felicity. The Spaniards had some 
vague knowledge of this country, which they called 
Eldorado, and about a hundred years ago an English- 
man named Raleigh came very near to it ; but, since we 
are surrounded by inaccessible rocks and precipices, we 
have hitherto been exempt from the rapacity of the 
nations of Europe, who have an inconceivable lust for 
the pebbles and mud of our land and would kill us to 
the last man to get possession of them." 

The conversation was long; it touched upon the 
form of the government, manners, women, public 
spectacles and the arts. Finally Candide, who was 
always interested in metaphysics, asked through Cacambo 
whether the country had a religion. The old man 
blushed a little. 

" How can you doubt it .? " said he. " Do you think 
we are ingrates ? " 

Cacambo humbly asked what was the religion of 
Eldorado. The old man blushed again. 

" Can there be two religions ? " said he. " We have, 
I think, the religion of everyone else ; we adore God 
from evening until morning." 

'* Bo you adore only one god ? " said Cacambo, who 
continued to act as the interpreter of Candide's doubts. 

** Manifestly," said the old man, " there are not two 
or three or four. I must confess that the people of 
your world ask very extraordinary questions." 

Candide continued to press the old man with ques- 
tions ; he wished to know how they prayed to God in 


" We do not pray," said the good and respectable 
sage, ** we have nothing to ask from him ; he has given 
us everything necessary and we continually give him 

Candide was curious to see the priests ; and asked 
where they were. The good old man smiled. 

" My friends," said he, ** we are all priests ; the 
King and all the heads of families solemnly sing praises 
every morning, accompanied by five or six thousand 

** What ! Have you no monks to teach, to dispute, 
to govern, to intrigue and to burn people who do not 
agree with them } " 

** For that, we should have to become fools," said 
the old man ; ** here we are all of the same opinion and 
do not understand what you mean with your monks." 

At all this Candide was in an ecstasy and said to 
himself : 

** This is very different from Westphalia and the 
castle of His LxDrdship the Baron ; if our friend Pangloss 
had seen Eldorado, he would not have said that the 
castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh was the best of all that 
exists on the earth ; certainly a man should travel." 

After this long conversation the good old man ordered 
a carriage to be harnessed with six sheep, and gave the 
two travellers twelve of his servants to take them to 

** You will excuse me," he said, " if my age deprives 
me of the honour of accompanying you. The King 
will receive you in a manner which will not displease 
you and doubtless you will pardon the customs of the 
country if any of them disconcert you." 

Candide and Cacambo entered the carriage ; the six 
sheep galloped off and in less than four hours they 
reached the King's palace, which was situated at one 
end of the capital. The portal was two hundred and 
twenty feet high and a hundred feet wide ; it is im- 
possible to describe its material. Anyone can see the 

It pltosfe 3?tfli>en to soii tl)f Bulgonan^ to our noblt costlep 


prodigious superiority it must have over the pebbles 
and sand we call gold and gems. 

Twenty beautiful maidens of the guard received 
Candide and Cacambo as they alighted from the carriage, 
conducted them to the baths and dressed them in robes 
woven from the down of colibris ; after which the 
principal male and female officers of the Crown led 
them to his Majesty's apartment through two files of a 
thousand musicians each, according to the usual custom. 
As they approached the throne-room, Cacambo asked 
one of the chief officers how they should behave in his 
Majesty's presence ; whether they should fall on their 
knees or flat on their faces, whether they should put 
their hands on their heads or on their backsides ; whether 
they should lick the dust of the throne-room ; in a word, 
what was the ceremony ? 

** The custom," said the chief officer, " is to embrace 
the King and to kiss him on either cheek." 

Candide and Cacambo threw their arms round his 
Majesty's neck ; he received them with all imaginable 
favour and politely asked them to supper. 

Meanwhile they were carried to see the town, the 
public buildings rising to the very skies, the market- 
places ornamented with thousands of columns, the 
fountains of rose-water and of liquors distilled from 
sugar-cane, which played continually in the public 
squares paved with precious stones which emitted a 
perfume like that of cloves and cinnamon. 

Candide asked to see the law-courts ; he was told 
there were none, and that nobody ever went to law. 
He asked if there were prisons and was told there were 
none. He was still more surprised and pleased by the 
palace of sciences, where he saw a gallery two thousand 
reet long, filled with instruments of mathematics and 

After they had explored all the afternoon about a 
thousandth part of the town, they were taken back to 
the King. Candide sat down to table with his Majesty, 


his valet Cacambo and several ladies. Never was better 
cheer, and never was anyone wittier at supper than his 
Majesty. Cacambo explained the King's witty remarks 
to Candide, and even when translated they still appeared 
witty. Among all the things which amazed Candide, 
this did not amaze him the least. 

They enjoyed this hospitality for a month. Candide 
repeatedly said to Cacambo ; 

** Once again, my friend, it is quite true that the 
castle where I was born cannot be compared with this 
I country ; but then Miss Cunegonde is not here and you 
[ probably have a mistress in Europe. If we remain here, 
j we shall only be like everyone else ; but if we return 
j to our own world with only twelve sheep laden with 
[I Eldorado pebbles, we shall be richer than all the kings 
1 put together ; we shall have no more Inquisitors to 
fear and we can easily regain Miss Cunegonde.*' 

Cacambo agreed with this ; it is so pleasant to be on 
the move, to show off before friends, to make a parade 
of the things seen on one's travels, that these two happy 
men resolved to be so no longer and to ask his Majesty's 
permission to depart. 

" You are doing a very silly thing," said the King. 
** I know my country is small ; but when we are com- 
fortable anywhere we should stay there ; I certainly 
have not the right to detain foreigners, that is a tyranny 
which does not exist either in our manners or our laws ; 
all men are free, leave when you please, but the way out 
is very difficult. It is impossible to ascend the rapid 
river by which you miraculously came here and which 
flows under arches of rock. The mountains which sur- 
round the whole of my kingdom are ten thousand feet 
high and as perpendicular as rocks ; they are more 
than ten leagues broad, and you can only get down 
from them by way of precipices. However, since you 
must go, I will give orders to the directors of machinery 
to make a machine which will carry you comfortably. 


When you have been taken to the other side of the 
mountains, nobody can proceed any farther with you ; 
for my subjects have sworn never to pass this boundary 
and they are too wise to break their oath. Ask anything 
else of me you wish." 

" We ask nothing of your Majesty," said Cacambo, 
** except a few sheep laden with provisions, pebbles and 
the mud of this country." 

The King laughed. 

" I cannot understand," said he, '* the taste you people 
of Europe have for our yellow mud ; but take as much 
as you wish, and much good may it do you." 

He immediately ordered his engineers to make a 
machine to hoist these two extraordinary men out of 
his kingdom. 

Three thousand learned scientists worked at it; it 
was ready in a fortnight and only cost about twenty 
million pounds sterling in the money of that country. 
Candide and Cacambo were placed on the machine ; 
there were two large red sheep saddled and bridled for 
them to ride on when they had passed the mountains, 
twenty sumpter sheep laden with provisions, thirty 
carrying presents of the most curious productions of 
the country and fifty laden with gold, precious stones 
and diamonds. The King embraced the two vagabonds 

Their departure was a splendid sight, and so was 
the ingenious manner in which they and their sheep 
were hoisted on to the top of the mountains. 

The scientists took leave of them after having landed 
them safely, and Candide's only desire and object was 
to go and present Miss Cunegonde with his sheep. 

** We have sufficient to pay the governor of Buenos 
Ayres," said he, " if Miss Cunegonde can be bought. 
Let us go to Cayenne, and take ship, and then we will 
see what kingdom we will buy." 


JVhat happened to them at Surinam and how Candide 
made the acquaintance of Martin 

OUR two travellers' first day was quite pleasant. 
They were encouraged by the idea of possess- 
ing more treasures than all Asia, Europe and 
Africa could collect. Candide in transport 
carved the name of Cunegonde on the trees. 

On the second day two of the sheep stuck in a marsh 
and were swallowed up with their loads ; two other 
sheep died of fatigue a few days later ; then seven or 
eight died of hunger in a desert ; several days afterwards 
others fell off precipices. Finally, after they had travelled 
for a hundred days, they had only two sheep left. Candide 
said to Cacambo : 

i' '* My friend, you see how perishable are the riches of 
this world ; nothing is steadfast but virtue and the 
happiness of seeing Miss Cunegonde again." 

** I admit it," said Cacambo, ** but we still have 



two sheep with more treasures than ever the King of 
Spain will have, and in the distance I see a town I sus- 
pect is Surinam, which belongs to the Dutch. We 
are at the end of our troubles and the beginning of our 

As they drew near the town they met a negro lying 
on the ground wearing only half his clothes, that is to 
say, a pair of blue cotton drawers ; this poor man had 
no left leg and no right hand. 

" Good Heavens 1 " said Candide to him in Dutch, 
** what are you doing there, my friend, in this horrible 
state } " 

" I am waiting for my master, the famous merchant 
Mr. Vanderdendur." 

** Was it Mr. Vanderdendur," said Candide, ** who 
treated you in this way ? " 

" Yes, sir," said the negro, "it is the custom. We 
are given a pair of cotton drawers twice a year as cloth- 
ing. When we work in the sugar-mills and the grind- 
stone catches our fingers, they cut off the hand ; when 
we try to run away, they cut off a leg. Both these things 
happened to me. This is the price paid for the sugar 
you eat in Europe. But when my mother sold me for 
ten patagons on the coast of Guinea, she said to me : 
' My dear child, give thanks to our fetishes, always 
worship them, and they will make you happy ; you have 
the honour to be a slave of our lords the white men 
and thereby you have made the fortune of your father 
and mother.' Alas ! I do not know whether I made 
their fortune, but they certainly did not make mine. 
Dogs, monkeys and parrots are a thousand times less 
miserable than we are ; the Dutch fetishes who con- 
verted me tell me that we are all of us, whites and blacks, 
the children of Adam. I am not a genealogist, but if 
these preachers tell the truth, we are all second cousins. 
Now, you will admit that no one could treat his relatives 
in a more horrible way." 


" O Pangloss ! " cried Candide. " This is an abomi- 
nation you had not guessed; this is too much, in the 
end I shall have to renounce optimism." 

** What is optimism ? " said Cacambo. 

** Alas ! " said Candide, "it is the mania of main- 
taining that everything is well when we are wretched." 

And he shed tears as he looked at his negro ; and he 
entered Surinam weeping. 

The first thing they inquired was whether there was 
any ship in the port which could be sent to Buenos 
Ayres. The person they addressed happened to be a 
Spanish captain, who offered to strike an honest bargain 
with them. He arranged to meet them at an inn. 
Candide and the faithful Cacambo went and waited for 
him with their two sheep. 

Candide, who blurted everything out, told the Spaniard 
all his adventures and confessed that he wanted to elope 
with Miss Cunegonde. 

" I shall certainly not take you to Buenos Ayres," 
said the captain. ** I should be hanged, and you would 
too. The fair Cunegonde is his Lordship's favourite 

Candide was thunderstruck; he sobbed for a long 
time ; then he took Cacambo aside. 

** My dear friend," said he, '* this is what you must 
do. We each have in our pockets five or six million 
pounds worth of diamonds ; you are more skilful than 
I am ; go to Buenos Ayres and get Miss Cunegonde. 
If the governor makes any difficulties, give him a 
million ; if he is still obstinate, give him two ; you have 
not killed an Inquisitor so they will not suspect you. 
I will fit out another ship, I will go and wait for you 
at Venice ; it is a free country where there is nothing 
to fear from Bulgarians, Abares, Jews or Inquisitors." 

Cacambo applauded this wise resolution ; he was in 
despair at leaving a good master who had become his 
intimate friend ; but the pleasure of being useful to 


him overcame the grief of leaving him. They em- 
braced with tears. Candide urged him not to forget 
the good old woman. Cacambo set off that very same 
day ; he was a very good man, this Cacambo. 

Candide remained some time longer at Surinam wait- 
ing for another captain to take him to Italy with the 
two sheep he had left. He engaged servants and bought 
everything necessary for a long voyage. At last Mr. 
Vanderdendur, the owner of a large ship, came to see him. 

** How much do you want," he asked this man, ** to 
take me straight to Venice with my servants, my baggage 
and these two sheep ? " 

The captain asked for ten thousand piastres. Candide 
did not hesitate. 

" Oho 1 " said the prudent Vanderdendur to him- 
self, ** this foreigner gives ten thousand piastres imme- 
diately ! He must be very rich." 

He returned a moment afterwards and said he could 
not sail for less than twenty thousand. 

" Very well, you shall have them," said Candide. 

" Whew ! " said the merchant to himself, ** this man 
gives twenty thousand piastres as easily as ten thousand." 

He came back again, and said he could not take him 
to Venice for less than thirty thousand piastres. 

** Then you shall have thirty thousand," replied 

** Oho ! " said the Dutch merchant to himself again, 
" thirty thousand piastres is nothing to this man ; obvi- 
ously the two sheep are laden with immense treasures ; 
I will not insist any further ; first let me make him pay 
the thirty thousand piastres, and then we will see." 

Candide sold two little diamonds, the smaller of which 
was worth more than all the money the captain asked. 
He paid him in advance. The two sheep were taken 
on board. Candide followed in a little boat to join 
the ship, which rode at anchor ; the captain watched his 
time, set his sails and weighed anchor; the wind was 


favourable. Candide, bewildered and stupefied, soon 
lost sight of him. 

" Alas 1 " he cried, " this is a trick worthy of the old 

He returned to shore in grief; for he had lost enough 
to make the fortune of twenty kings. 

He went to the Dutch judge ; and, as he was rather 
disturbed, he knocked loudly at the door ; he went in, 
related what had happened and talked a little louder 
than he ought to have done. The judge began by 
fining him ten thousand piastres for the noise he had 
made; he then listened patiently to him, promised to 
look into his affair as soon as the merchant returned, 
and charged him another ten thousand piastres for the 
expenses of the audience. 

This behaviour reduced Candide to despair; he had 
indeed endured misfortunes a thousand times more pain- 
ful ; but the calmness of the judge and of the captain 
who had robbed him stirred up his bile and plunged 
him into a black melancholy. The malevolence of men 
revealed itself to his mind in all its ugliness ; he enter- 
tained only gloomy ideas. At last a French ship was 
about to leave for Bordeaux and, since he no longer had 
any sheep laden with diamonds to put on board, he hired 
a cabin at a reasonable price and announced throughout 
the town that he would give the passage, food and two 
thousand piastres to an honest man who would make 
the journey with him, on condition that this man was 
the most unfortunate and the most disgusted with his 
condition in the whole province. 

Such a crowd of applicants arrived that a fleet would 
not have contained them. Candide, wishing to choose 
among the most likely, picked out twenty persons who 
seemed reasonably sociable and who all claimed to 
deserve his preference. He collected them in a tavern 
and gave them supper, on condition that each took an 
oath to relate truthfully the story of his life, promising 


that he would choose the man who seemed to him the 
most deserving of pity and to have the most cause for 
being discontented with his condition, and that he would 
give the others a little money. 

The sitting lasted until four o'clock in the morning. 
As Candide listened to their adventures he remembered 
what the old woman had said on the voyage to Buenos 
Ayres and how she had wagered that there was nobody 
on the boat who had not experienced very great mis- 
fortunes. At each story which was told him, he thought 
of Pangloss. 

** This Pangloss," said he, " would have some diffi- 
culty in supporting his system. I wish he were here. 
Certainly, if everything is well, it is only in Eldorado 
and not in the rest of the world." 

He finally determined in favour of a poor man of 
letters who had worked ten years for the booksellers 
at Amsterdam. He judged that there was no occupa- 
tion in the world which could more disgust a man. 

This man of letters, who was also a good man, had 
been robbed by his wife, beaten >by his son, and aban- 
doned by his daughter, who had eloped with a Portuguese. 
He had just been deprived of a small post on which he 
depended and the preachers of Surinam were persecuting 
him because they thought he was a Socinian. 

It must be admitted that the others were at least as 
unfortunate as he was ; but Candide hoped that this 
learned man would help to pass the time during the 
voyage. All his other rivals considered that Candide 
was doing them a great injustice ; but he soothed them 
down by giving each of them a hundred piastres. 


What happened to Candide and Martin at sea 

SO the old man, who was called Martin, embarked 
with Candide for Bordeaux. Both had seen and 
suffered much ; and if the ship had been sailing 
from Surinam to Japan by way of the Cape of 
Gk)od Hope they would have been able to discuss moral 
and physical evil during the whole voyage. 

However, Candide had one great advantage over 
Martin, because he still hoped to see Miss Cunegonde 
again, and Martin had nothing to hope for ; moreover, 
he possessed gold and diamonds ; and, although he 
had lost a hundred large red sheep laden with the greatest 
treasures on earth, although he was still enraged at being 
robbed by the Dutch captain, yet when he thought of 
what he still had left in his pockets and when he talked 
of Cunegonde, especially at the end of a meal, he still 
inclined towards the system of Pangloss. 

*' But what do you think of all this, Martin } " said 
he to the man of letters. ** What is your view of moral 
and physical evil } " 

** Sir," replied Martin, " my priests accused me of 
being a Socinian ; but the truth is I am a Manichaean." 
" You are poking fun at me," said Candide, '* there 
are no Manichaeans left in the world." 


" I am one," said Martin. " I don't know what to 
do about it, but I am unable to think in any other 

** You must be possessed by the devil," said Candide. 

** He takes so great a share in the affairs of this world," 
said Martin, ** that he might well be in me, as he is 
everywhere else ; but I confess that when I consider this 
globe, or rather this globule, I think that God has 
abandoned it to some evil creature — always excepting 
Eldorado. I have never seen a town which did not 
desire the ruin of the next town, never a family which 
did not wish to exterminate some other family. Every- 
where the weak loathe the powerful before whom they 
cower and the powerful treat them like flocks of sheep 
whose wool and flesh are to be sold. A million drilled 
assassins go from one end of Europe to the other mur- 
dering and robbing with discipline in order to earn their 
bread, because there is no honester occupation ; and in 
the towns which seem to enjoy peace and where the 
arts flourish men are devoured by more envy, troubles 
and worries than the afflictions of a besieged town. 
Secret griefs are even more cruel than public miseries. 
In a word, I have seen so much and endured so much 
that I have become a Manichaean." 

" Yet there is some good," replied Candide. 

** There may be," said Martin, *' but I do not know 

In the midst of this dispute they heard the sound of 
cannon. The noise increased every m.oment. Every- 
one took his telescope. About three miles away they 
saw two ships engaged in battle ; and the wind brought 
them so near the French ship that they had the pleasure 
of seeing the fight at their ease. At last one of the 
two ships fired a broadside so accurately and so low 
down that the other ship began to sink. Candide and 
Martin distinctly saw a hundred men on the main deck 
of the sinking ship ; they raised their hands to Heaven 


and uttered frightful shrieks ; in a moment all were 

" Well 1 " said Martin, " that is how men treat each 

"It is certainly true," said Candide, " that there is 
something diabolical in this affair." 

As he was speaking, he saw something of a brilliant 

red swimming near the ship. They launched a boat to 

I see what it could be ; it was one of his sheep. Candide 

i. felt more joy at recovering this sheep than grief at 

losing a hundred all laden with large diamonds from 


The French captain soon perceived that the captain 
of the remaining ship was a Spaniard and that the sunken 
ship was a Dutch pirate ; the captain was the very same 
who had robbed Candide. The immense wealth this 
scoundrel had stolen was swallowed up with him in the 
sea and only a sheep was saved. 

" You see," said Candide to Martin, " that crime is 
sometimes punished ; this scoundrel of a Dutch captain 
has met the fate he deserved." 

** Yes," said Martin, " but was it necessary that the 
other passengers on his ship should perish too .^ God 
punished the thief, and the devil punished the others." 

Meanwhile the French and Spanish ships continued 
on their way and Candide continued his conversation 
with Martin. They argued for a fortnight, and at the 
end of the fortnight they had got no further than at 
the beginning. But after all, they talked, they ex- 
changed ideas, they consoled each other. Candide 
stroked his sheep. 

" Since I have found you again," said he, ** I may 
very likely find Cunegonde." 


Candide and Martin approach the coast of France and 

AT last they sighted the coast of France. 
" Have you ever been to France, Mr. 
Martin ? " said Candide. 
** Yes," said Martin, ** I have traversed 
several provinces. In some half the inhabitants are 
crazy, in others they are too artful, in some they are 
usually quite gentle and stupid, and in others they 
think they are clever ; in all of them the chief occupation 
is making love, the second scandal-mongering and the 
third talking nonsense." 

" But, Mr. Martin, have you seen Paris } " 
** Yes, I have seen Paris ; it is a mixture of all these 
species ; it is a chaos, a throng where everybody hunts 
for pleasure and hardly anybody finds it, at least so 
far as I could see. I did not stay there long; when 
I arrived there I was robbed of everything I had by 
pickpockets at Saint-Germain's fair ; they thought I was 
a thief and I spent a week in prison ; after which I 
became a printer's reader to earn enough to return to 
Holland on foot. I met the scribbling rabble, the 
intriguing rabble and the fanatical rabble. We hear 
that there are very polite people in the town ; I am glad 
to think so." 

" For my part, I have not the least curiosity to see 
France," said Candide. ** You can easily guess that 
when a man has spent a month in Eldorado he cares 
to see nothing else in the world but Miss Cunegonde. 
I shall go and wait for her at Venice ; we will go to 
Italy by way of France ; will you come with me ? " 


** Willingly," said Martin. ** They say that Venice 
is only for the Venetian nobles, but that foreigners are 
nevertheless well received when they have plenty of 
money; I have none, you have plenty, I will follow 
you anywhere." 

** Apropos," said Candide, " do you think the earth 
was originally a sea, as we are assured by that large 
book 1 belonging to the captain ? " 

" I don't believe it in the least," said Martin, ** any 
more than all the other whimsies we have been pestered 
with recently 1 " 

" But to what end was this world formed ? " said 

** To infuriate us," replied Martin. 

" Are you not very much surprised," continued 
Candide, '* by the love those two girls of the country 
of the Oreillons had for those two monkeys, whose 
adventure I told you .? " 

** Not in the least," said Martin. " I see nothing 
strange in their passion ; I have seen so many extra- 
ordinary things that nothing seems extraordinary to me." 

'* Do you think," said Candide, " that men have 
always massacred each other, as they do to-day ? Have 
they always been liars, cheats, traitors, brigands, weak, 
flighty, cowardly, envious, gluttonous, drunken, grasping 
and vicious, bloody, backbiting, debauched, fanatical, 
hypocritical and silly ? " 

" Do you think," said Martin, " that sparrow-hawks 
have always eaten the pigeons they came across ? " 

" Yes, of course," said Candide. 

** Well," said Martin, ** if sparrow-hawks have always 
possessed the same nature, why should you expect men 
to change theirs ? " 

" Oh ! " said Candide, " there is a great difference ; 
free-will. . . ." 

Arguing thus, they arrived at Bordeaux. 
1 The Bible. 


What happened to Candide and Martin in France 

CANDIDE remained in Bordeaux only long 
enough to sell a few Eldorado pebbles and to 
provide himself with a two-seated post-chaise, 
for he could no longer get on without his philo- 
sopher Martin ; but he was very much grieved at having 
to part with his sheep, which he left with the Academy 
of Sciences at Bordeaux, The Academy offered as the 
subject for a prize that year the cause of the redness of 
the sheep's fleece; and the prize was awarded to a 
learned man in the North, who proved by A plus B 
minus C divided by Z that the sheep must be red and 
die of the sheep-pox. 

However, all the travellers Candide met in taverns 
on the way said to him : ** We are going to Paris." 
This general eagerness at length made him wish to see 
that capital ; it was not far out of the road to Venice. 

He entered by the Faubourg Saint-Marceau and 
thought he was in the ugliest village of Westphalia. 


Candide had scarcely reached his inn when he was 
attacked by a slight illness caused by fatigue. As he 
wore an enormous diamond on his finger, and a pro- 
digiously heavy strong-box had been observed in his 
train, he immediately had with him two doctors he had 
not asked for, several intimate friends who would not 
leave him, and two devotees who kept making him 
broth. Said Martin : 

" I remember that I was ill too when I first came to 
Paris ; I was very poor ; so I had no friends, no devotees, 
no doctors, and I got well." 

However, with the aid of medicine and blood-letting, 
Candide's illness became serious. An inhabitant of 
the district came and gently asked him for a note pay- 
able to bearer in the next world; Candide would have 
nothing to do with it. The devotees assured him that 
it was a new fashion ; ^ Candide replied that he was 
not a fashionable man. Martin wanted to throw the 
inhabitant out the window; the clerk swore that 
Candide should not be buried; Martin swore that 
he would bury the clerk if he continued to annoy 
them. The quarrel became heated; Martin took him 
by the shoulders and turned him out roughly; this 
caused a great scandal, and they made an official report 
on it. 

Candide got better ; and during his convalescence he 
had very good company to supper with him. They 
gambled for high stakes. Candide was vastly surprised 
that he never drew an ace ; and Martin was not surprised 
at all. 

Among those who did the honours of the town was a 
little abb6 from P^rigord, one of those assiduous people 
who are always alert, always obliging, impudent, fawn- 
ing, accommodating, always on the look-out for the 
arrival of foreigners, ready to tell them all the scandals 
of the town and to procure them pleasures at any price. 

^ A ticket of confession 


^^^ Voo^^ f^^-^ 

:^/-r,vf^ 4.e^v\*«^ f ^-^^^ ' 




This abb6 took Candide and Martin to the theatre. A 
new tragedy was being played. Candide was seated 
near several wits. This did not prevent his weeping at 
perfectly played scenes. One of the argumentative 
bores near him said during an interval ; 

" You have no business to weep, this is a very bad 
actress, the actor playing with her is still worse, the 
play is still worse than the actors ; the author does not 
know a word of Arabic and yet the scene is in Arabia ; 
moreover, he is a man who does not believe in innate 
ideas ; to-morrow I will bring you twenty articles written 
against him." 

" Sir," said Candide to the abb^, ** how many plays 
have you in France ? " 

** Five or six thousand," he replied. 

'* That's a lot," said Candide, '* and how many good 
ones are there ? " 

** Fifteen or sixteen," replied the other. 

•• That's a lot," said Martin. 

Candide was greatly pleased with an actress who took 
the part of Queen Elizabeth in a rather dull tragedy 
which is sometimes played. 

" This actress," said he to Martin, " pleases me very 
much ; she looks rather like Miss Cunegonde ; I 
should be very glad to pay her my respects." 

The abb6 offered to introduce him to her. Can- 
dide, brought up in Germany, asked what was the 
etiquette, and how queens of England were treated in 

** There is a distinction," said the abb^ ; *' in the 
provinces we take them to a tavern ; in Paris we respect 
them when they are beautiful and throw them in the 
public sewer when they are dead." 

" Queens in the public sewer ! " said Candide. 

** Yes, indeed," said Martin, " the abb^ is right ; I 
was in Paris when Miss Monime ^ departed, as they 
H 1 Adrienne Lecouvreur. 


say, this life; she was refused what people liere call 
the honours of burial— thzt is to say, the honour of rotting 
with all the beggars of the district in a horrible cemetery ; 
she was buried by herself at the corner of the Rue de 
Burgoyne ; which must have given her extreme pain, 
for her mind was very lofty." 

" That was very impolite," said Candide. 

** What do you expect ? " said Martin. ** These 
people are like that. Imagine all possible contradictions 
and incompatibilities ; you will see them in the govern- 
ment, in the law-courts, in the churches and the entertain- 
ments of this absurd nation." 

** Is it true that people are always laughing in Paris } ** 
said Candide. 

** Yes," said the abbd, " but it is with rage in their 
hearts, for they complain of everything with roars of 
laughter and they even commit with laughter the most 
detestable actions." 

" Who is that fat pig," said Candide, ** who said so 
much ill of the play I cried at so much and of the actors 
who gave me so much pleasure } " 

*' He is a living evil," replied the abb^, " who earns 
his living by abusing all plays and all books ; he hates 
anyone who succeeds, as eunuchs hate those who enjoy ; 
he is one of the serpents of literature who feed on filth 
and venom ; he is a scribbler." 

'* What do you mean by a scribbler .? " said Candide. 

" A scribbler of periodical sheets," said the abbd. 
" A Freron." 

Candide, Martin and the abbe from P^rigord talked 
in this manner on the stairway as they watched every- 
body gomg out after the play. 

" Although I am most anxious to see Miss Cunegonde 
again," said Candide, ** I should like to sup with Miss 
Clairon, for I thought her admirable." 

The abb^ was not the sort of man to know Miss 
Clairon, for she saw only good company. 


" She is engaged this evening," he said, " but I shall 
have the honour to take you to the house of a lady of 
quality, and there you will learn as much of Paris as if 
you had been here for four years." 

Candide, who was naturally curious, allowed himself 
to be taken to the lady's house at the far end of the 
Faubourg Saint-Honor^ ; they were playing faro ; twelve 
gloomy punters each held a small hand of cards, the 
foolish register of their misfortunes. The silence was 
profound, the punters were pale, the banker was uneasy, 
and the lady of the house, seated beside this pitiless 
banker, watched with lynx's eyes every double stake, 
every seven-and-the-go, with which each player marked 
his cards ; she had them un-marked with severe but 
polite attention, for fear of losing her customers ; the 
lady called herself Marquise de Parolignac. Her fifteen- 
year-old daughter was among the punters and winked 
to her to let her know the tricks of the poor people 
who attempted to repair the cruelties of fate. The 
abb^ from P^rigord, Candide and Martin entered; 
nobody rose, nobody greeted them, nobody looked at 
them ; everyone was profoundly occupied with the 

" Her Ladyship, the Baroness of Thunder-ten-tronckh 
was more civil," said Candide. 

However, the abb^ whispered in the ear of the Marquise, 
who half rose, honoured Candide with a gracious smile 
and Martin with a most noble nod. Candide was given 
a seat and a hand of cards, and lost fifty thousand francs 
in two hands; after which they supped very merrily 
and everyone was surprised that Candide was not more 
disturbed by his loss. The lackeys said to each other, 
in the language of lackeys : 

" He must be an English Milord." 

The supper was like most suppers in Paris ; first 
there was a silence and then a noise of indistinguishable 
words, then jokes, most of which were insipid, false news, 


false arguments, some politics and a great deal of scandal ; 
there was even some talk of new books. 

" Have you seen," said the abb^ from P^rigord, " the 
novel by Gauchat, the doctor of theology ? " 

** Yes," replied one of the guests, " but I could not 
finish it. We have a crowd of silly writings, but all of 
them together do not approach the silliness of Gauchat, 
doctor of theology. I am so weary of this immensity 
of detestable books which inundates us that I have taken 
to faro." 

** And what do you say about the Melanges by Arch- 
deacon T. .? " said the abb^. 

" Ah ! " said Madame de Parolignac, " the tiresome 
creature 1 How carefully he tells you what everybody 
knows 1 How heavily he discusses what is not worth 
the trouble of being lightly mentioned 1 How witlessly 
he appropriates other people's wit ! How he spoils 
what he steals ! How he disgusts me 1 But he will 
not disgust me any more ; it is enough to have read a 
few pages by the Archdeacon." 

There was a man of learning and taste at table who 
confirmed what the marchioness had said. They then 
talked of tragedies ; the lady asked why there were 
tragedies which were sometimes played and yet were 
unreadable. The man of taste explained very clearly 
how a play might have some interest and hardly any 
merit ; in a few words he proved that it was not sufficient 
to bring in one or two of the situations which are found 
in all novels and which always attract the spectators ; 
but that a writer of tragedies must be original without 
being bizarre, often sublime and always natural, must 
know the human heart and be able to give it speech, 
must be a great poet but not let any character in his 
play appear to be a poet, must know his language per- 
fectly, speak it with purity, with continual harmony 
and never allow the sense to be spoilt for the sake of 
the rhyme. 


" Anyone," he added, ** who does not observe all 
these rules may produce one or two tragedies applauded 
in the theatre, but he will never be ranked among good 
writers ; there are very few good tragedies ; some are 
idylls in well-written and well-rhymed dialogue ; some 
are political arguments which send one to sleep, or 
repulsive amplifications ; others are the dreams of an 
enthusiast, in a barbarous style, with broken dialogue, 
long apostrophes to the gods (because he does not 
know how to speak to men), false maxims and turgid 

Candide listened attentively to these remarks and 
conceived a great idea of the speaker ; and, as the 
marchioness had been careful to place him beside her, 
he leaned over to her ear and took the liberty of asking 
her who was the man who talked so well. 

** He is a man of letters," said the lady, " who does 
not play cards and is sometimes brought here to supper 
by the abb^ ; he has a perfect knowledge of tragedies 
and books and he has written a tragedy which was hissed 
and a book of which only one copy has ever been seen 
outside his bookseller's shop and that was one he gave 

** The great man ! " said Candide. ** He is another 

Then, turning to him, Candide said : 

** Sir, no doubt you think that all is for the best in 
the physical world and in the moral, and that nothing 
could be otherwise than as it is ."^ " 

** Sir," replied the man of letters, " I do not think 
anything of the sort. I think everything goes awry 
with us, that nobody knows his rank or his office, nor 
what he is doing, nor what he ought to do, and that 
except at supper, which is quite gay and where there 
appears to be a certain amount of sociability, all the rest 
of their time is passed in senseless quarrels : Jansenists 
with Molinists, lawyers with churchmen, men of letters 


with men of letters, courtiers with courtiers, financiers 
with the people, wives with husbands, relatives with 
relatives — 'tis an eternal war.'* 

Candide replied : 

" I have seen worse things ; but a wise man, who has 
since had the misfortune to be hanged, taught me that 
it is all for the best; these are only the shadows in a 
fair picture." 

** Your wise man who was hanged was poking fun at 
the world," said Martin ; " and your shadows are 
horrible stains." 

" The stains are made by men," said Candide, ** and 
they cannot avoid them." 

" Then it is not their fault," said Martin. 

Most of the gamblers, who had not the slightest 
understanding of this kind of talk, were drinking ; 
Martin argued with the man of letters and Candide told 
the hostess some of his adventures. 

After supper the marchioness took Candide into a 
side room and made him sit down on a sofa. 

" Well I " said she, ** so you are still madly in love 
with Miss Cunegonde of Thunder-ten-tronckh ? ** 

** Yes, madam," replied Candide. 

The marchioness replied with a tender smile : 

** You answer like a young man from Westphalia. 
A Frenchman would have said: ' It is true that I was 
in love with Miss Cunegonde, but when I see you, 
madam, I fear lest I should cease to love her.* " 

"Alas! madam," said Candide, "I will answer as 
you wish." 

** Your passion for her," said the marchioness, *' began 
by picking up her handkerchief; I want you to pick up 
my garter." 

" With all my heart," said Candide ; and he picked 
it up. 

" But I want you to put it on again," said the lady ; 
and Candide put it on again. 


** You see," said the lady, ** you are a foreigner ; I 
sometimes make my lovers in Paris languish for a fort- 
night, but I give myself to you the very first night, 
because one must do the honours of one's country to a 
young man from Westphalia." 

The fair lady, having perceived two enormous diamonds 
on the young foreigner's hands, praised them so sincerely 
that they passed from Candide's fingers to the fingers of 
the marchioness. 

As Candide went home with his abb^ from P^rigord, 
he felt some remorse at having been unfaithful to Miss 
Cunegonde. The abbd sympathised with his distress; 
he had only had a small share in the fifty thousand francs 
Candide had lost at cards and in the value of the two 
half-given, half-extorted diamonds. His plan was to 
profit as much as he could from the advantages which 
his acquaintance with Candide might procure for him. 
He talked a lot about Cunegonde, and Candide told him 
that he should ask that fair one's forgiveness for his 
infidelity when he saw her at Venice. 

The abbe from Pdrigord redoubled his politeness 
and civilities and took a tender interest in all Candide 
said, in all he did, and in all he wished to do. 

** Then, sir," said he, " you are to meet her at 
Venice ? " 

** Yes, sir," said Candide, ** without fail I must go 
and meet Miss Cunegonde there." 

Then, carried away by the pleasure of talking about 
the person he loved, he related, as he was accustomed 
to do, some of his adventures with that illustrious 
Westphalian lady. 

** I suppose," said the abb^, " that Miss Cunegonde has 
a great deal of wit and that she writes charming letters." 

" I have never received any from her," said Candide, 
** for you must know that when I was expelled from the 
castle because of my love for her, I could not write to 
her; soon afterwards I heard she was dead, then I 


found her again and then I lost her, and now I have 
sent an express messenger to her two thousand five 
hundred leagues from here and am expecting her reply." 
The abbd listened attentively and seemed rather 
meditative. He soon took leave of the two foreigners, 
after having embraced them tenderly. The next morn- 
ing when Candide woke up he received a letter composed 
as follows : 

" Sir, my dearest lover, I have been ill for a week in 
this town ; I have just heard that you are here. I 
should fly to your arms if I could stir. I heard that 
you had passed through Bordeaux ; I left the faithful 
Cacambo and the old woman there and they will soon 
follow me. The governor of Buenos Ayres took every- 
thing, but I still have your heart. Come, your presence 
will restore me to life or will make me die of pleasure." 

This charming, this unhoped-for letter, transported 
Candide with inexpressible joy ; and the illness of his 
dear Cunegonde overwhelmed him with grief. Torn 
between these two sentiments, he took his gold and his 
diamonds and drove with Martin to the hotel where 
Miss Cunegonde was staying. He entered trembling 
with emotion, his heart beat, his voice was broken ; he 
wanted to open the bed-curtains and to have a light 

" Do nothing of the sort," said the waiting-maid. 
" Light would be the death of her." 

And she quickly drew the curtains. 

" My dear Cunegonde," said Candide, weeping, 
" how do you feel ? If you cannot see me, at least speak 
to me." 

" She cannot speak," said the maid-servant. 

The lady then extended a plump hand, which Candide 
watered with his tears and then filled with diamonds, 
leaving a bag full of gold in the arm-chair. 


In the midst of these transports a police-officer arrived, 
followed by the abbe from Pdrigord and a squad of 

** So these are the two suspicious foreigners ? " he 

He had them arrested immediately and ordered his 
bravoes to hale them off to prison. 

** This is not the way they treat travellers in Eldo- 
rado," said Candide. 

** I am more of a Manichaean than ever," said Martin. 

" But, sir, where are you taking us ? " said Candide. 

** To the deepest dungeon," said the police-officer. 

Martin, having recovered his coolness, decided that 
the lady who pretended to be Cunegonde was a cheat, 
that the abbe from P^rigord was a cheat who had abused 
Candide's innocence with all possible speed, and that 
the police-officer was another cheat of whom they could 
easily be rid. 

Rather than expose himself to judicial proceedings, 
Candide, enlightened by this advice and impatient to 
see the real Cunegonde again, offered the police-officer 
three little diamonds worth about three thousand pounds 

" Ah ! sir," said the man with the ivory stick, ** if 
you had committed all imaginable crimes you would be 
the most honest man in the world. Three diamonds ! 
Each worth three thousand pounds each 1 Sir 1 I 
would be killed for your sake, instead of taking you to 
prison. All strangers are arrested here, but trust to 
me. I have a brother at Dieppe in Normandy, I will 
take you there ; and if you have any diamonds to give 
him he will take as much care of you as myself." 

" And why are all strangers arrested ? " said Candide, 

The abb^ from Pdrigord then spoke and said : 

*' It is because a scoundrel from Atrebatum ^ listened 

^ Artois. Damiens, who attempted the life of Louis XV on the 5th 
January 1757, was born at Arras. 


to imbecilities ; this alone made him commit a parricide, 
not like that of May i6io,^ but like that of December 
1594,2 and like several others committed in other years 
and in other months by other scoundrels who had 
listened to imbecilities." 

The police-officer then explained what it was all 

*' Ah I the monsters ! " cried Candide. " What ! 
Can such horrors be in a nation which dances and sings 1 
Can I not leave at once this country where monkeys 
torment tigers ? I have seen bears in my own country ; 
Eldorado is the only place where I have seen men. In 
God's name, sir, take me to Venice, where I am to wait 
for Miss Cunegonde." 

** I can only take you to Lower Normandy," said the 

Immediately he took off their irons, said there had 
been a mistake, sent his men away, took Candide and 
Martin to Dieppe, and left them with his brother. 
There was a small Dutch vessel in the port. With the 
help of three other diamonds the Norman became the 
most obliging of men and embarked Candide and his 
servant in the ship which was about to sail for Ports- 
mouth in England. It was not the road to Venice; 
but Candide felt as if he had escaped from Hell, and he 
had every intention of taking the road to Venice at the 
first opportunity. 

* Henri IV was assassinated on the 14th May i6io. 

* On the 27th December 1594, Jean Chatel made an attempt on the 
life of Henri IV. 

' Captain of Italian archers or sbirri. 


Candide and Martin reach the coast of England ; and 
what they saw there 

yA H 1 Pangloss, Pangloss ! Ah ! Martin, 

/% Martin I Ah 1 my dear Cunegonde ! What 

/ ^ sort of a world is this ? ** said Candide on the 

jL jL^Dutch ship. 

** Something very mad and very abominable," replied 

** You know England ; are the people there as mad 
as they are in France } ** 

'* "Tis another sort of madness," said Martin. ** You 
know these two nations are at war for a few acres of 
snow in Canada, and that they are spending more on 
this fine war than all Canada is worth. It is beyond 
my poor capacity to tell you whether there are more 
madmen in one country than in the other; all I know 
is that in general the people we are going to visit arc 
extremely melancholic." 

Talking thus, they arrived at Portsmouth. There 
were multitudes of people on the shore, looking atten- 
tively at a rather fat man who was kneeling down with 
his eyes bandaged on the deck of one of the ships in the 
fleet; four soldiers placed opposite this man each shot 
three bullets into his brain in the calmest manner imagin- 
able ; and the whole assembly returned home with great 

"What is all this.?" said Candide. "And what 
Demon exercises his power everywhere } " 

He asked who was the fat man who had just been 
killed so ceremoniously. 

" An admiral," ^ was the reply. 

^ Admiral Bjoig, shot on the 14th March, 1757, after his defeat near 
Minorca. Vohaire did all he could to save Byng^s life. 


" And why kill the admiral ? " 

" Because," he was told, " he did not kill enough 
people. He fought a battle with a French admiral and 
it was held that the English admiral was not close enough 
to him." 

** But," said Candide, " the French admiral was just 
as far from the English admiral as he was from the 
French admiral ! " 

" That is indisputable," was the answer, '* but in this 
country it is a good thing to kill an admiral from time 
to time to encourage the others." 

Candide was so bewildered and so shocked by what 
he saw and heard that he would not even set foot on 
shore, but bargained with the Dutch captain (even if 
he had to pay him as much as the Surinam robber) to 
take him at once to Venice. 

The captain was ready in two days. They sailed 
down the coast of France ; and passed in sight of Lisbon, 
at which Candide shuddered. They entered the Straits 
and the Mediterranean and at last reached Venice. 

" Praised be God ! " said Candide, embracing Martin, 
** here I shall see the fair Cunegonde again. I trust 
Cacambo as I would myself. All is well, all goes well, 
all goes as well as it possibly could." 


Paquette and Friar Giroflee 

AS soon as he reached Venice, he inquired for 
Cacambo in all the taverns, in all the cafes, 
and of all the ladies of pleasure ; and did not 
find him. Every day he sent out messengers 
to all ships and boats ; but there was no news of Cacambo. 

" What ! " said he to Martin, " I have had time to 
sail from Surinam to Bordeaux, to go from Bordeaux 
to Paris, from Paris to Dieppe, from Dieppe to Ports- 
mouth, to sail along the coasts of Portugal and Spain, 
to cross the Mediterranean, to spend several months at 
Venice, and the fair Cunegonde has not yet arrived 1 
Instead of her I have met only a jade and an abbd from 
Pdrigord ! Cunegonde is certainly dead and the only 
thing left for me is to die too. Ah ! it would have been 
better to stay in the Paradise of Eldorado instead of 
returning to this accursed Europe. How right you are, 
my dear Martin ! Everything is illusion and calamity ! " 

He fell into a black melancholy and took no part 
in the opera a la mode or in the other carnival amuse- 
ments; not a lady caused him the least temptation. 
Martin said : 

" You are indeed simple-minded to suppose that a 
half-breed valet with five or six millions in his pocket 
will go and look for your mistress at the other end of 
the world and bring her to you at Venice. If he finds 
her, he will take her for himself; if he does not find her, 
he will take another. I advise you to forget your valet 
Cacambo and your mistress Cunegonde." 


Martin was not consoling. Candide*s melancholy 
increased, and Martin persisted in proving to him that 
there was little virtue and small happiness in the world 
except perhaps in Eldorado, where nobody could go. 

While arguing about this important subject and 
waiting for Cunegonde, Candide noticed a young Thea- 
tine monk in the Piazza San Marco with a girl on his 
arm. The Theatine looked fresh, plump and vigorous ; 
his eyes were bright, his air assured, his countenance 
firm, and his step lofty. The girl was very pretty and 
was singing ; she gazed amorously at her Theatine and 
every now and then pinched his fat cheeks. 

** At least you will admit," said Candide to Martin, 
** that those people are happy. Hitherto I have only 
found unfortunates in the whole habitable earth, except 
in Eldorado ; but I wager that this girl and the Theatine 
are very happy creatures." 

** I wager they are not," said Martin. 

" We have only to ask them to dinner," said Candide, 
** and you will see whether I am wrong." 

He immediately accosted them, paid his respects to 
them, and invited them to come to his hotel to eat maca- 
roni, Lombardy partridges, and caviare, and to drink 
Montepulciano, Lacryma Christi, Cyprus and Samos 
wine. The young lady blushed, the Theatine accepted 
the invitation, and the girl followed, looking at Candide 
with surprise and confusion in her eyes, which were 
filled with a few tears. Scarcely had they entered 
Candide's room when she said : 

** What ! Mr. Candide does not recognise Paquette 1 " 

At these words Candide, who had not looked at her 
very closely because he was occupied entirely by Cune- 
gonde, said to her : 

" Alas 1 my poor child, so it was you who put Dr. 
Pangloss into the fine state I saw him in .? " 

" Alas 1 sir, it was indeed," said Paquette. " I see 
you have heard all about it. I have heard of the terrible 


misfortunes which happened to Her Ladyship the 
Baroness's whole family and to the fair Cunegonde. 
I swear to you that my fate has been just as sad. I was 
very innocent when you knew me. A Franciscan friar 
who was my confessor easily seduced me. The results 
were dreadful ; I was obliged to leave the castle shortly 
after His Lordship the Baron expelled you by kicking 
you hard and frequently in the backside. If a famous 
doctor had not taken pity on me I should have died. 
For some time I was the doctor's mistress from gratitude 
to him. His wife, who was madly jealous, beat me 
every day relentlessly ; she was a fury. The doctor 
was the ugliest of men, and I was the most unhappy 
of all living creatures at being continually beaten on 
account of a man I did not love. You know, sir, how 
dangerous it is for a shrewish woman to be the wife of 
a doctor. One day, exasperated by his wife's behaviour, 
he gave her some medicine for a little cold, and it was 
so efficacious that she died two hours afterwards in 
horrible convulsions. The lady's relatives brought a 
criminal prosecution against the husband ; he fled and 
I was put in prison. My innocence would not have 
saved me if I had not been rather pretty. The judge 
set me free on condition that he took the doctor's place. 
I was soon supplanted by a rival, expelled without a 
penny, and obliged to continue the abominable occupa- 
tion which to you men seems so amusing and which to 
us is nothing but an abyss of misery. I came to Venice 
to practise this profession. Ah ! sir, if you could 
imagine what it is to be forced to caress impartially an 
old tradesman, a lawyer, a monk, a gondolier, an abbd ; 
to be exposed to every insult and outrage ; to be reduced 
often to borrow a petticoat in order to go and find some 
disgusting man who will lift it ; to be robbed by one of 
what one has earned with another, to be despoiled by 
the police, and to contemplate for the future nothing 
but a dreadful old age, a hospital and a dunghill, you 


would conclude that I am one of the most unfortunate 
creatures in the world." 

Paquette opened her heart in this way to Candide in a 
side room, in the presence of Martin, who said to Candide : 

** You see, I have already won half my wager." 

Friar Girofl^e had remained in the dining-room, 
drinking a glass while he waited for dinner. 

'* But," said Candide to Paquette, *' when I met you, 
you looked so gay, so happy; you were singing, you 
were caressing the Theatine so naturally ; you seemed to 
me to be as happy as you say you are unfortunate." 

** Ah ! sir," replied Paquette, ** that is one more 
misery of our profession. Yesterday I was robbed and 
beaten by an officer, and to-day I must seem to be in a 
good humour to please a monk." 

Candide wanted to hear no more ; he admitted that 
Martin was right. They sat down to table with Paquette 
and the Theatine. The meal was quite amusing and 
towards the end they were talking with some confidence. 

" Father," said Candide to the monk, ** you seem to 
me to enjoy a fate which everybody should envy; the 
flower of health shines on your cheek, your face is radiant 
with happiness ; you have a very pretty girl for your 
recreation and you appear to be very well pleased with 
your state of life as a Theatine." 

" Faith, sir," said Friar Giroflde, ** I wish all the 
Theatines were at the bottom of the sea. A hundred 
times I have been tempted to set fire to the monastery 
and to go and be a Turk. My parents forced me at 
the age of fifteen to put on this detestable robe, in order 
that more money might be left to my cursed elder brother, 
whom God confound ! Jealousy, discord, fury, inhabit 
the monastery. It is true, I have preached a few bad 
sermons which bring me in a little money, half of which 
is stolen from me b)' the prior ; the remainder I spend 
on girls; but when I go back to the monastery in the 
evening I feel ready to smash my head against the 


JJOhtA wouli Dr.Pan^loss sai^ if hf ^^w lubot /J^\ 
I tbe pure stote ^nature is 7 /jF ^ 


dormitory walls, and all my colleagues are in the same 

Martin turned to Candide and said with his usual 
calm : 

" Well, have I not won the whole wager ? " 

Candide gave two thousand piastres to Paquette and 
a thousand to Friar Giroflee. 

" I warrant," said he, " that they will be happy with 

" I don't believe it in the very least," said Martin. 
*' Perhaps you will make them still more unhappy with 
those piastres." 

** That may be," said Candide, ** but I am consoled 
by one thing ; I see that we often meet people we thought 
we should never meet again ; it may very well be that 
as I met my red sheep and Paquette, I may also meet 
Cunegonde again." 

" I hope," said Martin, ** that she will one day make 
you happy ; but I doubt it very much." 

** You are very hard," said Candide. 

** That's because I have lived," said Martin. 

** But look at these gondoliers," said Candide, ** they 
sing all day long." 

" You do not see them at home, with their wives and 
their brats of children," said Martin. " The Doge has 
his troubles, the gondoliers have theirs. True, looking 
at it all round, a gondolier's lot is preferable to a Doge's ; 
but I think the dijfference so slight that it is not worth 

** They talk," said Candide, ** about Senator Poco- 
curante who lives in that handsome palace on the Brenta 
and who is hospitable to foreigners. He is supposed to 
be a man who has never known a grief." 

" I should like to meet so rare a specimen," said 

Candide immediately sent a request to Lord Poco- 
curante for permission to wait upon him next day. 


Visit to the noble Venetian^ Lord Pococurante 

CANDIDE and Martin took a gondola and 
rowed to the noble Pococurante's palace. The 
gardens were extensive and ornamented with 
fine marble statues ; the architecture of the 
palace was handsome. The master of this establish- 
ment, a very wealthy man of about sixty, received the 
two visitors very politely but with very little cordiality, 
which disconcerted Candide but did not displease Martin. 
Two pretty and neatly dressed girls served them with 
very frothy chocolate. Candide could not refrain from 
praising their beauty, their grace and their skill. 

" They are quite good creatures," said Senator Poco- 
curante, ** and I sometimes make them sleep in my bed, 
for I am very tired of the ladies of the town, with their 
coquetries, their jealousies, their quarrels, their humours, 
their meanness, their pride, their folly, and the sonnets 
one must write or have written for them ; but, after all, 
I am getting very tired of these two girls." 

After this collation, Candide was walking in a long 
gallery and was surprised by the beauty of the pictures. 
He asked what master had painted the two first. 

" They are by Raphael," said the Senator. '* Some 
years ago I bought them at a very high price out of mere 
vanity; I am told they are the finest in Italy, but they 
give me no pleasure ; the colour has gone very dark, 
the faces are not sufficiently rounded and do not stand 
out enough ; the draperies have not the least resemblance 
to material ; in short, whatever they may say, I do not 
consider them a true imitation of nature. I shall only 


like a picture when it makes me think it is nature itself; 
and there are none of that kind. I have a great many 
pictures, but I never look at them now." 

While they waited for dinner, Pococurante gave them 
a concert. Candide thought the music delicious. 

" This noise," said Pococurante, " is amusing for 
half an hour ; but if it lasts any longer, it wearies every- 
body although nobody dares to say so. Music nowadays 
is merely the art of executing difficulties, and in the end 
"that which is only difficult ceases to please. Perhaps T 
should like the opera more if they had not made it a 
monster which revolts me. Those who please may go 
to see bad tragedies set to music, where the scenes are 
only composed to bring in clumsily two or three ridiculous 
songs which show off an actress's voice ; those who will 
or can may swoon with pleasure when they see an 
eunuch humming the part of Caesar and Cato as he 
awkwardly treads the boards ; for my part, I long ago 
abandoned such trivialities, which nowadays are the 
glory of Italy and for which monarchs pay so dearly." 

Candide demurred a little, but discreetly. Martin 
entirely agreed with the Senator. 

They sat down to table and after an excellent dinner 
went into the library. Candide saw a magnificently 
bound Homer and complimented the Illustrissimo on 
his good taste. 

•' That is the book," said he, " which so much de- 
lighted the great Pangloss, the greatest philosopher of 

" It does not delight me," said Pococurante coldly; 
" formerly I was made to believe that I took pleasure 
in reading it; but this continual repetition or battles 
which are all alike, these gods who are perpetually active 
and achieve nothing decisive, this Helen who is the 
cause of the war and yet scarcely an actor in the piece, 
this Troy which is always besieged and never taken— 
all bore me extremely. I have sometimes asked learned 


men if they were as bored as I am by reading it ; all 
who were sincere confessed that the book fell from their 
hands, but that it must be in every library, as a monu- 
ment of antiquity, and like those rusty coins which 
cannot be put into circulation." 

** Your Excellency has a different opinion of Virgil ? ** 
said Candide. 

*' I admit," said Pococurante, ** that the second, 
fourth and sixth books of his JEneid are excellent, but 
as for his pious i^neas and the strong Cloanthes and the 
faithful Achates and the little Ascanius and the imbecile 
king Latinus and the middle-class Amata and the insipid 
Lavinia, I think there could be nothing more frigid and 
disagreeable. I prefer Tasso and the fantastic tales of 

** May I venture to ask you, sir," said Candide, " if 
you do not take great pleasure in reading Horace ? " 

" He has two maxims," said Pococurante, '* which 
might be useful to a man of the world, and which, being 
compressed in energetic verses, are more easily impressed 
upon the memory ; but I care very little for his Journey 
to Brundisium, and his description of a Bad Dinner, and 
the street brawlers* quarrel between — what is his name ? 
— Rupilius, whose words, he says, were full of pus, and 
another person whose words were all vinegar. I was 
extremely disgusted with his gross verses against old 
women and witches ; and I cannot see there is any merit 
in his telling his friend Maecenas that, if he is placed by 
him among the lyric poets, he will strike the stars with 
his lofty brow. Fools admire everything in a celebrated 
author. I only read to please myself, and I only like 
what suits me." 

Candide, who had been taught never to judge any- 
thing for himself, was greatly surprised by what he 
heard ; and Martin thought Pococurante's way of 
thinking quite reasonable. 

** Oh 1 There is a Cicero," said Candide. ** I 


suppose you are never tired of reading that great 

man r 

** I never read him," replied the Venetian. " What 
do I care that he pleaded for Rabirius or Cluentius. I 
have enough cases to judge myself; I could better have 
endured his philosophical works ; l>ut when I saw that 
he doubted everything, I concluded I knew as much as 
he and did not need anybody else in order to be ignorant." 

** Ah 1 There are eighty volumes of the Proceedings 
of an Academy of Sciences," exclaimed Martin, '* there 
might be something good in them." 

'* There would be," said Pococurante, " if a single 
one of the authors of all that rubbish had invented even 
the art of making pins ; but in all those books there is 
nothing but vain systems and not a single useful thing." 

" What a lot of plays I see there," said Candide. 
** Italian, Spanish, and French 1 " 

" Yes," said the Senator, " there are three thousand 
and not three dozen good ones. As for those collections 
of sermons, which all together are not worth a page of 
Seneca, and all those large volumes of theology, you 
may well suppose that they are never opened by me or 
anybody else." 

Martin noticed some shelves filled with English books. 

" I should think," he said, " that a republican would 
enjoy most of those works written with so much freedom." 

'* Yes," replied Pococurante, "it is good to write 
as we think ; it is the privilege of man. In all Italy, we 
only write what we do not think; those who inhabit 
the country of the Caesars and the Antonines dare not 
have an idea without the permission of a Dominican 
monk. I should applaud the liberty which inspires 
Englishmen of genius if passion and party spirit did not 
corrupt everything estimable in that precious liberty." 

Candide, in noticing a Milton, asked him if he did 
not consider that author to be a very great man. 

*' Who ? " said Pococurante. ** That barbarian who 


wrote a long commentary on the first chapter of Genesis 
in ten books of harsh verses ? That gross imitator of 
the Greeks, who disfigures the Creation, and who, while 
Moses represents the Eternal Being as producing the 
world by speech, makes the Messiah take a large com- 
pass from the heavenly cupboard in order to trace out 
his work ? Should I esteem the man who spoiled 
Tasso's hell and devil ; who disguises Lucifer sometimes 
as a toad, sometimes as a pygmy ; who makes him repeat 
the same things a hundred times ; makes him argue 
about theology ; and imitates seriously Ariosto's comical 
invention of fire-arms by making the devils fire a cannon 
in Heaven ? Neither I nor anyone else in Italy could 
enjoy such wretched extravagances. The marriage of 
Sin and Death and the snakes which sin brings forth 
nauseate any man of delicate taste, and his long descrip- 
tion of a hospital would only please a grave-digger. 
This obscure, bizarre and disgusting poem was despised 
at its birth ; I treat it to-day as it was treated by its con- 
temporaries in its own country. But then I say what 
I think, and care very little whether others think as I 

Candide was distressed by these remarks ; he respected 
Homer and rather liked Milton. 

** Alas ! " he whispered to Martin, ** I am afraid this 
man would have a sovereign contempt for our German 

" There wouldn't be much harm in that," said Martin. 

** Oh 1 What a superior man ! " said Candide under 
his breath. " What a great genius this Pococurante is I 
Nothing can please him." 

After they had thus reviewed all his books they went 
down into the garden. Candide praised all its beauties. 

" I have never met anything more tasteless," said 
their owner. " We have nothing but gewgaws ; but 
to-morrow I shall begin to plant one on a more noble 


When the two visitors had taken farewell of his 
Excellency, Candide said to Martin : 

" Now you will admit that he is the happiest of men, 
for he is superior to everything he possesses." 

" Do you not see," said Martin, " that he is disgusted 
with everything he possesses ? Plato said long ago that 
the best stomachs are not those which refuse all food." 

" But," said Candide, ** is there not pleasure in criti- 
cising, in finding faults where other men think they see 
beauty ? " 

" That is to say," answered Martin, " that there is 
pleasure in not being pleased." 

'• Oh I Well," said Candide, " then there is no one 
happy except me — when I see Miss Cunegonde again." 

** It is always good to hope," said Martin. 

However, the days and weeks went by ; Cacambo did 
not return and Candide was so much plunged in grief 
that he did not even notice that Paquette and Friar 
Girofl^e had not once come to thank him. 


How Candide and Martin supped with six strangers and 
who they were 

ONE evening when Candide and Martin were 
going to sit down to table with the strangers 
who lodged in the same hotel, a man with a 
face the colour of soot came up to him from 
behind and, taking him by the arm, said : 

" Get ready to come with us, and do not fail." 

He turned round and saw Cacambo. Only the sight 
of Cunegonde could have surprised and pleased him 
more. He was almost wild with joy. He embraced 
his dear friend. 

" Cunegonde is here, of course } Where is she } 
Take me to her, let me die of joy with her." 

" Cunegonde is not here," said Cacambo. ** She is 
in Constantinople." 

** Heavens ! In Constantinople 1 But were she in 
China I would fly to her ; let us start at once." 

" We will start after supper," replied Cacambo. " I 
cannot tell you any more ; I am a slave, and my master 
is waiting for me ; I must go and serve him at table 1 
Do not say anything ; eat your supper, and be in readi- 

Candide, torn between joy and grief, charmed to see 
his faithful agent again, amazed to see him a slave, 
filled with the idea of seeing his mistress again, with 
turmoil in his heart, agitation in his mind, sat down to 
table with Martin (who met every strange occurrence 
with the same calmness), and with six strangers, who 
had come to spend the Carnival at Venice. 

Cacambo, who acted as butler to one of the strangers, 
bent down to his master's head towards the end of the 
meal and said : 


** Sire, your Majesty can leave when you wish, the 
ship is ready." 

After saying this, Cacambo withdrew. The guests 
looked at each other with surprise without saying a 
word, when another servant came up to his master and 
said : 

" Sire, your Majesty's post-chaise is at Padua, and 
the boat is ready." 

The master made a sign and the servant departed. 
Once more all the guests looked at each other, and the 
general surprise was increased twofold. A third servant 
went up to the third stranger and said : 

** Sire, believe me, your Majesty cannot remain here 
any longer ; I will prepare everything." 

And he immediately disappeared. 

Candide and Martin had no doubt that this was a 
Carnival masquerade. A fourth servant said to the 
fourth master : 

** Your Majesty can leave when you wish.** 

And he went out like the others. 

The fifth servant spoke similarly to the fifth master. 
But the sixth servant spoke diflFerently to the sixth 
stranger, who was next to Candide, and said : 

** Faith, sire, they will not give your Majesty any 
more credit nor me either, and we may very likely be 
jailed to-night, both of us ; I am going to look to my 
own affairs, good-bye." 

When the servants had all gone, the six strangers, 
Candide and Martin remained in profound silence. 
At last it was broken by Candide. 

" Gentlemen," said he, ** this is a curious jest. How 
is it you are all kings ? I confess that neither Martin 
nor I are kings." 

Cacambo's master then gravely spoke and said in 
Italian : 

** I am not jesting, my name is Achmet III. For 
several years I was Sultan ; I dethroned my brother ; 


my nephew dethroned me; they cut off the heads of 
my viziers ; I am ending my days in the old seraglio ; 
my nephew, Sultan Mahmoud, sometimes allows me 
to travel for my health, and I have come to spend the 
Carnival at Venice," 

A young man who sat next to Achmet spoke after 
him and said : 

** My name is Ivan ; I was Emperor of all the Russias ; 
I was dethroned in my cradle ; my father and mother 
were imprisoned and I was brought up in prison ; I 
sometimes have permission to travel, accompanied by 
those who guard me, and I have come to spend the 
Carnival at Venice." 

The third said : 

" I am Charles Edward, King of England ; my father 
gave up his rights to the throne to me and I fought a 
war to assert them ; the hearts of eight hundred of my 
adherents were torn out and dashed in their faces. I 
have been in prison ; I am going to Rome to visit the 
King my father, who, like me, is dethroned, and my 
grandfather, and I have come to spend the Carnival at 

The fourth then spoke and said : 

" I am the King of Poland ; the chance of war de- 
prived me of my hereditary states ; my father endured 
the same reverse of fortune ; I am resigned to Providence 
like the Sultan Achmet, the Emperor Ivan and King 
Charles Edward, to whom God grant long life; and I 
have come to spend the Carnival at Venice." 

The fifth said : 

" I also am the King of Poland ; I have lost my 
kingdom twice; but Providence has given me another 
state in which I have been able to do more good than 
all the kings of the Sarmatians together have been ever 
able to do on the banks of the Vistula ; I also am resigned 
to Providence and I have come to spend the Carnival at 


It was now for the sixth monarch to speak. 

" Gentlemen," said he, " I am not so eminent as you ; 
but I have been a king like anyone else. I am Theodore ; 
I was elected King of Corsica ; I have been called Your 
Majesty and now I am barely called Sir. I have coined 
money and do not own a farthing ; I have had two 
Secretaries of State and now have scarcely a valet ; I 
have occupied a throne and for a long time lay on straw 
in a London prison. I am much afraid I shall be treated 
in the same way here, although I have come, like your 
Majesties, to spend the Carnival at Venice." 

The five other kings listened to this speech with a 
noble compassion. Each of them gave King Theodore 
twenty sequins to buy clothes and shirts ; Candide 
presented him with a diamond worth two thousand 

" Who is this man," said the five kings, " who is 
able to give a hundred times as much as any of us, and 
who gives it .^ " 

As they were leaving the table, there came to the same 
hotel four serene highnesses who had also lost their states 
in the chance of war, and who had come to spend the rest 
of the Carnival at Venice ; but Candide did not even 
notice these new-comers, he could think of nothing but 
of going to Constantinople to find his dear Cunegonde. 


Candide's voyage to Constantinople 

THE faithful Cacambo had already spoken to the 
Turkish captain who was to take Sultan Achmet 
back to Constantinople and had obtained per- 
mission for Candide and Martin to come on 
board. They both entered this ship after having pros- 
trated themselves before his miserable Highness. On 
the way, Candide said to Martin : 

"So we have just supped with six dethroned kings 1 
And among those six kings there was one to \7h0m I 
gave charity. Perhaps there are many other princes 
still more unfortunate. Now, I have only lost a hundred 
sheep and I am hastening to Cunegonde's arms. My 
dear Martin, once more, Pangloss was right, all is well." 
" I hope so," said Martin. 

" But," said Candide, " this is a very singular experi- 
ence we have just had at Venice. Nobody has ever seen 
or heard of six dethroned kings supping together in a 

" 'Tis no more extraordinary," said Martin, " than 
most of the things which have happened to us. It is 


very common for kings to be dethroned ; and as to 
the honour we have had of supping with them, 'tis a 
trifle not deserving our attention." 

Scarcely had Candide entered the ship when he threw 
his arms round the neck of his old valet and his friend 

" Well 1 " said he, ** what is Cunegonde doing ? Is 
she still a marvel of beauty ? Does she still love me ? 
How is she ? Of course you have bought her a palace 
in Constantinople ? " 

" My dear master," replied Cacambo, ** Cunegonde 
is washing dishes on the banks of Propontis for a prince 
who possesses very few dishes ; she is a slave in the house 
of a former sovereign named Ragotsky, who receives in 
his refuge three crowns a day from the Grand Turk; 
but what is even more sad is that she has lost her beauty 
and has become horribly ugly." 

** Ah 1 beautiful or ugly," said Candide, ** I am a 
man of honour and my duty is to love her always. But 
how can she be reduced to so abject a condition with the 
five or six millions you carried off.'' " 

" Ah 1 " said Cacambo, "did I not have to give two 
millions to Senor Don Fernando d'Ibaraa y Figueora y 
Mascarenes y Lampourdos y Souza, Governor of Buenos 
Ayres, for permission to bring away Miss Cunegonde ? 
And did not a pirate bravely strip us of all the rest ? 
And did not this pirate take us to Cape Matapan, to 
Milo, to Nicaria, to Samos, to Petra, to the Dardanelles, 
to Marmora, to Scutari ? Cunegonde and the old 
woman are servants to the prince I mentioned, and I 
am slave to the dethroned Sultan." 

** What a chain of terrible calamities I ** said Candide. 
*' But after all, I still have a few diamonds ; I shall easily 
deliver Cunegonde. What a pity she has become so 

Then, turning to Martin, he said : 

** Who do you think is the most to be pitied, the 


Sultan Achmet, the Emperor Ivan, King Charles Edward, 
or me ? " 

'* I do not know at all," said Martin. " I should have 
to be in your hearts to know." 

" Ah 1 " said Candide, " if Pangloss were here he 
would know and would tell us." 

** I do not know," said Martin, ** what scales your 
Pangloss would use to weigh the misfortunes of men 
and to estimate their sufferings. All -I presume is that 
there are millions of men on the earth a hundred times 
more to be pitied than King Charles Edward, the 
Emperor Ivan and the Sultan Achmet." 

'* That may very well be," said Candide. 

In a few days they reached the Black Sea channel. 
Candide began by paying a high ransom for Cacambo 
and, without wasting time, he went on board a galley 
with his companions bound for the shores of Propontis, 
in order to find Cunegonde however ugly she might 

Among the galley-slaves were two convicts who 
rowed very badly and from time to time the Levantine 
captain applied several strokes of a bull's pizzle to their 
naked shoulders. From a natural feeling of pity Candide 
watched them more attentively than the other ealley- 
slaves and went up to them. Some features of their 
disfigured faces appeared to him to have some resem- 
blance to Pangloss and the wretched Jesuit, the Baron, 
Miss Cunegonde's brother. This idea disturbed and 
saddened him. He looked at them still more carefully. 

" Truly," said he to Cacambo, ** if I had not seen 
Dr. Pangloss hanged, and if I had not been so unfortunate 
as to kill the Baron, I should think they were rowing in 
this galley." 

At the words Baron and Pangloss, the two convicts 
gave a loud cry, stopped on their seats and dropped their 
oars. The Levantme captain ran up to them and the 
lashes with the bull's pizzle were redoubled. 


" Stop I Stop, sir ! " cried Candide. '* I will give 
you as much money as you want." 

" What 1 Is it Candide ? " said one of the convicts. 

*' What 1 Is it Candide ? " said the other. 

" Is it a dream ? " said Candide. " Am I awake ? 
Am I in this galley .'' Is that my Lord the Baron 
whom I killed ? Is that Dr. Pangloss whom I saw 

'* It is, it is," they replied. 

** What ! Is that the great philosopher ? " said Martin. 

'* Ah 1 sir," said Candide to the Levantine captain, 
** how much money do you want for My Lord Thunder- 
ten-tronckh, one of the first Barons of the empire, and 
for Dr. Pangloss, the most profound metaphysician of 
Germany ? " 

'* Dog of a Christian," replied the Levantine captain, 
" since these two dogs of Christian convicts are Barons 
and metaphysicians, which no doubt is a high rank in 
their country, you shall pay me fifty thousand sequins." 

*' You shall have them, sir. Row back to Con- 
stantinople like lightning and you shall be paid at once. 
But, no, take me to Miss Cunegonde." 

The captain, at Candide's first offer, had already 
turned the bow towards the town, and rowed there more 
swiftly than a bird cleaves the air. 

Candide embraced the Baron and Pangloss a hundred 

'* How was it I did not kill you, my dear Baron ? 
And, my dear Pangloss, how do you happen to be alive 
after having been hanged ? And why are you both in a 
Turkish galley .? " 

" Is it really true that my dear sister is in this country ? " 
said the Baron. 

" Yes," replied Cacambo. 

" So once more I see my dear Candide 1 " cried Pangloss. 

Candide introduced Martin and Cacambo. 

They all embraced and all talked at the same time. 



The galley flew; already they were in the harbour. 
They sent for a Jew, and Candide sold him for fifty 
thousand sequins a diamond worth a hundred thousand, 
for which he swore by Abraham he could not give any 
more. The ransom of the Baron and Pangloss was 
immediately paid. Pangloss threw himself at the feet 
of his liberator and bathed them with tears ; the other 
thanked him with a nod and promised to repay the 
money at the first opportunity. 

" But is it possible that my sister is in Turkey ? ** 
said he. 

" Nothing is so possible," replied Cacambo, " since 
she washes up the dishes of a prince of Transylvania." 

They immediately sent for two Jews ; Candide sold 
some more diamonds ; and they all set out in another 
galley to rescue Cunegonde. 

'ama](mmm:y&oms>{m:^' mmmmm^ 

Cht fn9enfou^ monmr (n lOhfch ihty on) their ^hetp 
' u)ere kMsteti on to the top of the mountaihsr ^ m 


fFhat happened to Candide^ to Cunegondey to Pangioss^ 
to Martin, etc. 

** ''W~^ARDON once more," said Candide to the 
MJ Baron, " pardon me, reverend father, for having 
I thrust my sword through your body." 

JL " Let us say no more about it," said the 

Baron. ** I admit I was a little too sharp ; but since you 
wish to know how it was you saw me in a galley, I must 
tell you that after my wound was healed by the brother 
apothecary of the college, I was attacked and carried off 
by a Spanish raiding party ; I was imprisoned in Buenos 
Ayres at the time when my sister had just left. I asked 
to return to the Vicar-General in Rome. I was ordered 
to Constantinople to act as almoner to the Ambassador* 
of France. A week after I had taken up my office I met 
towards evening a very handsome young page of the 
Sultan. It was very hot; the young man wished to 
bathe ; I took the opportunity to bathe also. I did not 
know that it was a most serious crime for a Christian to 
be found naked with a young Mahometan. A cadi 
sentenced me to a hundred strokes on the soles of my feet 
and condemned me to the galley. I do not think a more 
horrible injustice has ever been committed. But I 
should very much like to know why my sister is in the 
kitchen of a Transylvanian sovereign living in exile 
among the Turks." 

'* But, my dear Pangloss," said Candide, " how does it 
happen that I see you once more ? " 

'• It is true," said Pangloss, " that you saw me hanged ; 
and in the natural course of events I should have been 


burned. But you remember, it poured with rain when 
they were going to roast me ; the storm was so violent 
that they despaired of lighting the fire ; I was hanged 
because they could do nothing better ; a surgeon bought 
my body, carried me home and dissected me. He first 
made a crucial incision in me from the navel to the collar- 
bone. Nobody could have been worse hanged than I 
was. The executioner of the holy Inquisition, who was 
a subdeacon, was marvellously skilful in burning people, 
but he was not accustomed to hang them ; the rope was 
wet and did not slide easily and it was knotted ; in short, 
I still breathed. The crucial incision caused me to 
utter so loud a scream that the surgeon fell over backwards 
and, thinking he was dissecting the devil, fled away in 
terror and fell down the staircase in his flight. His wife 
ran in at the noise from another room ; she saw me 
stretched out on the table with my crucial incision ; she 
was still more frightened than her husband, fled, and fell 
on top of him. When they had recovered themselves 
a little, I heard the surgeon's wife say to the surgeon : 

*' * My dear, what were you thinking of, to dissect 
a heretic ? Don't you know the devil always possesses 
them ? I will go and get a priest at once to exorcise him.* 

" At this I shuddered and collected the little strength 
I had left to shout : 

** ' Have pity on me 1 * 

" At last the Portuguese barber grew bolder ; he sewed 
up my skin ; his wife even took care of me, and at the 
end of a fortnight I was able to walk again. The barber 
found me a situation and made me lackey to a Knight of 
Malta who was going to Venice ; but, as my master had 
no money to pay me wages, I entered the service of a 
Venetian merchant and followed him to Constantinople. 

** One day I took it into my head to enter a mosque ; 
there was nobody there except an old Imam and a very 
pretty young devotee who was reciting her prayers ; her 
breasts were entirely uncovered ; between them she wore 


a bunch of tulips, roses, anemones, ranunculus, hyacinths 
and auriculas ; she dropped her bunch of flowers ; I 
picked it up and returned it to her with a most respectful 
alacrity. I was so long putting them back that the Imam 
grew angry and, seeing I was a Christian, called for help. 
I was taken to the cadi, who sentenced me to receive a 
hundred strokes on the soles of my feet and sent me to the 
galleys. I was chained on the same seat and in the same 
galley as My Lord the Baron. In this galley there were 
four young men from Marseilles, five Neapolitan priests 
and two monks from Corfu, who assured us that similar 
accidents occurred every day. His Lordship the Baron 
claimed that he had suffered a greater injustice than I ; 
and I claimed that it was much more permissible to 
replace a bunch of flowers between a woman's breasts 
than to be naked with one of the Sultan's pages. We 
argued continually, and every day received twenty strokes 
of the bull's pizzle, when the chain of events of this 
universe led you to our galley and you ransomed us." 

** Well 1 my dear Pangloss," said Candide, " when 
you were hanged, dissected, stunned with blows and 
made to row in the galleys, did you always think that 
everything was for the best in this world ? " 

** I am still of my first opinion," replied Pangloss, 
*' for after all I am a philosopher ; and it would be 
unbecoming for me to recant, since Leibnitz could not 
be in the wrong and pre-established harmony is the 
finest thing imaginable like the plenum and subtle matter.** 

How Candide found Cunegonde and the old woman again 

WHILE Candide, the Baron, Pangloss, Mar- 
tin and Cacambo were relating their adven- 
tures, reasoning upon contingent or non- 
contingent events of the universe, arguing 
about effects and causes, moral and physical evil, free-will 
and necessity, and the consolations to be found in the 
Turkish galleys, they came to the house of the Tran- 
sylvanian prince on the shores of Propontis. 

The first objects which met their sight were Cune- 
gonde and the old woman hanging out towels to dry on 
the line. 

At this sight the Baron grew pale. Candide, that 
tender lover, seeing his fair Cunegonde sunburned, 
blear-eyed, flat-breasted, with wrinkles round her eyes 
and red, chapped arms, recoiled three paces in horror, 
and then advanced from mere politeness. 

She embraced Candide and her brother. They 
embraced the old woman ; Candide bought them both. 

In the neighbourhood was a little farm; the old 
woman suggested that Candide should buy it, until some 
better fate befell the group. Cunegonde did not know 
that she had become uglv, for nobody had told her so ; 
she reminded Candide of his promises in so peremptory 
a tone that the good Candide dared not refuse her. 



He therefore informed the Baron that he was about 
to marry his sister. 

** Never," said the Baron, " will I endure such base- 
ness on her part and such insolence on yours ; nobody 
shall ever reproach me with this infamy ; my sister's 
children could never enter the chapters of Germany. No, 
my sister shall never marry anyone but a Baron of the 

Cunegonde threw herself at his feet and bathed them 
in tears ; but he was inflexible. 

" Madman," said Candide, " I rescued you from the 
galleys, I paid your ransom and your sister's ; she was 
washing dishes here, she is ugly, I am so kind as to make 
her my wife, and you pretend to oppose me 1 I should 
kill you again if I listened to my anger." 

** You may kill me again," said the Baron, ** but you 
shall never marry my sister while I am alive." 



AT the bottom of his heart Candide had not the 
least wish to marry Cunegonde. But the 
Baron's extreme impertinence determined him 
to complete the marriage, and Cunegonde urged 
it so warmly that he could not retract. He consulted 
Pangloss, Martin and the faithful Cacambo. Pangloss 
wrote an excellent memorandum by which he proved that 
the Baron had no rights over his sister and that by all the 
laws of the empire she could make a left-handed marriage 
with Candide. Martin advised that the Baron should 
be thrown into the sea ; Cacambo decided that he should 
be returned to the Levantine captain and sent back to the 
galleys, after which he would be returned by the first ship 
to the Vicar-General at Rome. This was thought to be 
very good advice ; the old woman approved it ; they said 
nothing to the sister ; the plan was carried out with the 
aid of a little money and they had the pleasure of duping 
a Jesuit and punishing the pride of a German Baron. 

It would be natural to suppose that when, after so 
many disasters, Candide was married to his mistress, and 
living with the philosopher Pangloss, the philosopher 
Martin, the prudent Cacambo and the old woman, having 
brought back so many diamonds from the country of the 
ancient Incas, would lead the most pleasant life imagin- 
able. But he was so cheated by the Jews that he had 
nothing left but his little farm ; his wife, growing uglier 
every day, became shrewish and unendurable; the old 


woman was ailing and even more bad-tempered than 
Cunegonde. Cacambo, who worked in the garden and 
then went to Constantinople to sell vegetables, was over- 
worked and cursed his rate. Pangloss was in despair 
because he did not shine in some German university. 

As for Martin, he was firmly convinced that people 
are equally uncomfortable everywhere ; he accepted 
things patiently. Candide, Martin and Pangloss some- 
times argued about metaphysics and morals. From the 
windows of the farm they often watched the ships going 
by, filled with effendis, pashas and cadis, who were being 
exiled to Lemnos, to Mitylene and Erzerum. They saw 
other cadis, other pashas and other effendis coming back 
to take the place of the exiles and to be exiled in their 
turn. They saw the neatly impaled heads which were 
taken to the Sublime Porte. These sights redoubled 
their discussions ; and when they were not arguing, the 
boredom was so excessive that one day the old woman 
dared to say to them : 

** I should like to know which is worse, to be raped 
a hundred times by negro pirates, to have a buttock cut 
off, to run the gauntlet among the Bulgarians, to be 
whipped and flogged in an auto-da-fe^ to be dissected, to 
row in a galley, in short, to endure all the miseries through 
which we have passed, or to remain here doing nothing } " 

" 'Tis a great question," said Candide. 

These remarks led to new reflections, and Martin 
especially concluded that man was born to live in the 
convulsions of distress or in the lethargy of boredom. 
Candide did not agree, but he asserted nothing. Pangloss 
confessed that he had always suffered horribly; but, 
having once maintained that everything was for the best, 
he had continued to maintain it without believing it. 

One thing confirmed Martin in his detestable principles, 
made Candide hesitate more than ever, and embarrassed 
Pangloss. And it was this. One day there came to 
their farm Paquette and Friar Giroflee, who were in the 
most extreme misery ; they had soon wasted their three 


thousand piastres, had left each other, made it up, 
quarrelled again, been put in prison, escaped, and finally 
Friar Giroflee had turned Turk. Paquette continued 
her occupation everywhere and now earned nothing by it. 

** I foresaw," said Martin to Candide, " that your 
gifts would soon be wasted and would only make them 
the more miserable. You and Cacambo were once 
bloated with millions of piastres and you are no happier 
than Friar Giroflee and Paquette." 

** Ah 1 ha ! " said Pangloss to Paquette, ** so Heaven 
brings you back to us, my dear child ? Do you know 
that you cost me the end of my nose, an eye and an ear ! 
What a plight you are in 1 Ah I What a world this is 1 " 

This new occurrence caused them to philosophise 
more than ever. 

In the neighbourhood there lived a very famous 
Dervish, who was supposed to be the best philosopher 
in Turkey ; they went to consult him ; Pangloss was the 
spokesman and said : 

** Master, we have come to beg you to tell us why so 
strange an animal as man was ever created." 

*' What has it to do with you } " said the Dervish. 
** Is it your business ? " 

" But, reverend father," said Candide, ** there is a 
horrible amount of evil in the world." 

*' What does it matter," said the Dervish, ** whether 
there is evil or good ? When his highness sends a ship 
to Egypt, does he worry about the comfort or discomfort 
of the rats in the ship .? " 

*' Then what should we do .f" " said Pangloss. 

** Hold your tongue," said the Dervish. 

" I flattered myself," said Pangloss, " that I should 
discuss with you effects and causes, this best of all 
possible worlds, the origin of evil, the nature of the soul 
and pre-established harmony." 

At these words the Dervish slammed the door in their 

During this conversation the news went round that 


at Constantinople two viziers and the mufti had been 
strangled and several of their friends impaled. This 
catastrophe made a prodigious noise everywhere for 
several hours. As Pangloss, Candide and Martin were 
returning to their little farm, they came upon an old man 
who was taking the air under a bower of orange-trees at 
his door. Pangloss, who was as curious as he was 
argumentative, asked him what was the name of the 
mufti who had just been strangled. 

" I do not know," replied the old man. ** I have 
never known the name of any mufti or of any vizier. I 
am entirely ignorant of the occurrence you mention ; 
I presume that in general those who meddle with public 
affairs sometimes perish miserably and that they deserve 
it ; but I never inquire what is going on in Constantinople ; 
I content myself with sending there for sale the produce 
of the garden I cultivate." 

Having spoken thus, he took the strangers into his 
house. His two daughters and his two sons presented 
them with several kinds of sherbet which they made 
themselves, caymac flavoured with candied citron peel, 
oranges, lemons, limes, pine-apples, dates, pistachios and 
Mocha coffee which had not been mixed with the bad 
coffee of Batavia and the Isles. After which this good 
Mussulman's two daughters perfumed the beards of 
Candide, Pangloss and Martin. 

" You must have a vast and magnificent estate ? " 
said Candide to the Turk. 

** I have only twenty acres," replied the Turk. *' I 
cultivate them with my children ; and work keeps at bay 
three great evils : boredom, vice and need." 

As Candide returned to his farm he reflected deeply on 
the Turk's remarks. He said to Pangloss and Martin : 

** That good old man seems to me to have chosen an 
existence preferable by far to that of the six kings with 
whom we had the honour to sup." 

" Exalted rank," said Pangloss, ** is very dangerous, 
according to the testimony of all philosophers ; for 


Eglon, King of the Moabites, was murdered by Ehud ; 
Absalom was hanged by the hair and pierced by three 
darts ; King Nadab, son of Jeroboam, was killed by 
Baasha ; King Elah by Zimri ; Ahaziah by Jehu ; 
Athaliah by Jehoiada ; the Kings Jehoiakim, Jeconiah 
and Zedekiah were made slaves. You know in what 
manner died Croesus, Astyages, Darius, Denys of 
Syracuse, Pyrrhus, Perseus, Hannibal, Jugurtha, Ario- 
vistus, Caesar, Pompey, Nero, Otho, Vitellius, Domitian, 
Richard II of England, Edward II, Henry VI, Richard 
III, Mary Stuart, Charles I, the three Henrys of France, 
the Emperor Henry IV. You know . . ." 

** I also know," said Candide, ** that we should 
cultivate our gardens." 

" You are right," said Pangloss, ** for, when man 
was placed in the Garden of Eden, he was placed there 
ut operaretur eum^ to dress it and to keep it ; which proves 
that man was not born for idleness." 

** Let us work without arguing," said Martin ; " 'tis 
the only way to make life endurable." 

The whole small fraternity entered into this praise- 
worthy plan, and each started to make use of his talents. 
The little farm yielded well. Cunegonde was indeed very 
ugly, but she became an excellent pastry-cook ; Paquette 
embroidered ; the old woman took care of the linen. 
Even Friar Giroflde performed some service ; he was a 
very good carpenter and even became a man of honour ; 
and Pangloss sometimes said to Candide : 

*' All events are linked up in this best of all possible 
worlds ; for, if you had not been expelled from the noble 
castle by hard kicks in your backside for love of Miss 
Cunegonde, if you had not been clapped into the Inquisi- 
tion, if you had not wandered about America on foot, if 
you had not stuck your sword in the Baron, if you had 
not lost all your sheep from the land of Eldorado, you 
would not be eating candied citrons and pistachios here." 

** 'Tis well said," replied Candide, ** but we must 
cultivate our gardens." 






The Apparition 

AMONG the jinn who preside over the empires 
of the world, Ituriel holds one of the highest 
posts and has the department of Asia. One 
morning he descended to the house of the 
Scythian Babouc, on the banks of the Oxus, and said 
to him : 

** Babouc, the folly and excesses of the Persians have 
aroused our anger. Yesterday there was an assembly 
of the jinn of Asia to discuss whether we should punish 
Persepolis or whether we should destroy it. Gk) to that 
town and examine everything ; on your return you will 
render me an exact account and I will decide on your 
report whether the town shall be chastised or extermin- 

*' But, my lord,** said Babouc humbly, " I have never 
been to Persia and do not know anyone there.'* 

** So much the better," said the angel, " you will 
not be biased. Heaven has given you understanding, 
and I will add to it the gift of inS|piring confidence. 
Go, look, listen, observe and fear nothing; you will 
be welcomed everywhere." 



Armies and Hospitals 

BABOUC mounted his camel and set out with 
his servant. At the end of several days he met 
the Persian army near the plains of Sennar, 
going to fight the Indian army. He spoke first 
of all to a straggler, and asked him what was the cause 
of the war. 

"By all the gods," said the soldier, ** I don't know ; 
it is not my affair ; my business is to kill and to be killed 
for a living ; it does not matter whom I serve. I might 
very likely desert to the Indian camp to-morrow ; for I 
am told they give their soldiers nearly half a drachma 
of copper a day more than we get in this cursed Persian 
army. If you want to know why we are fighting, ask 
my captain." 

Babouc gave the soldier a trifle and entered the camp. 
He soon struck up an acquaintance with the captain and 
asked him what was the cause of the war. 

" How do you expect me to know } " said the captain, 
" and what does the cause matter to me } I live two 
hundred leagues from Persepolis ; I heard that war was 
declared, I abandoned my family and, according to our 
custom, I have come to obtain fortune or death, since I 
have nothing else to do." 

** But," said Babouc, *' are not your brother officers 
a little better informed than you } " 

** No," said the officer, " only our chief satraps know 
exactly why we are killing each other." 

The amazed Babouc introduced himself to the generals, 
and became familiar with them. One of them finally 
said to him : 



** The cause of this war which has ruined Asia for 
twenty years was originally a quarrel between a eunuch 
of a wife of the great King of Persia and a clerk of an 
office of the great King of India. It was a question of 
a right which was worth about the thirtieth part of a 
piece of gold. The Prime Minister of India and our 
own worthily supported the rights of their masters. 
The quarrel waxed hot. On either side a million soldiers 
were brought into the field. Every year four hundred 
thousand men are needed as recruits for the army. 
Murders, fires, ruins, devastations are multiplied, the 
whole world suffers, and the animosity continues. Our 
Prime Minister and the Indian Prime Minister often 
protest that they are only acting for the good of the 
human race; and at each protestation there are always 
several towns destroyed and several provinces ravaged." 

The next day there was a rumour that peace would 
soon be concluded, and so the Persian general and the 
Indian general hastened to give battle, which was bloody. 
Babouc saw all the mistakes and all the abominations ; 
he witnessed the manoeuvres of the chief satraps, who 
did all they could to get their own general beaten. He 
saw officers killed by their own troops ; he saw soldiers 
who dispatched their dying comrades in order to rob 
them of a few bloody, torn, muddy rags. He entered 
the hospitals where the wounded were being taken, and 
where most of them died, owing to the inhuman negli- 
gence of the very people who were well paid by the 
King of Persia to take care of them. 

** Are these men," cried Babouc, ** or ferocious beasts ? 
Ah 1 I see that Persepolis will soon be destroyed." 

Occupied with this thought he joined the Indians* 
camp; he was received as well there as he had been 
by the Persians, in accordance with the promise made 
him ; but he saw there exactly the same excesses which 
had filled him with horror. 

*• Oho I " said he to himself. " If the angel Ituriel 


exterminates the Persians, the angel of India must also 
destroy the Indians." 

Having inquired in more detail about what had 
happened in either army, he learned of actions of gener- 
osityi greatness of soul, humanity, which astounded and 
delighted him. 

'* Inexplicable human beings 1 " cried he. ** How can 
you unite so much baseness and grandeur, so many 
virtues and crimes ? " 

Meanwhile peace was declared. The leaders of the 
two armies, neither of whom had gained the victory, 
but on the contrary had shed the blood of so many men 
for their own interests, went off to seek rewards in their 
own Courts. The peace was praised in the public 
prints, which announced nothing less than the return 
of virtue and felicity to the earth. 

" God be praised I '* said Babouc. ** Persepolis will 
be the dwelling-place of purified innocence ; it will not 
be destroyed as these evil jinn desired ; let me hasten at 
once to this capital of Asia." 



HE entered this immense town by the ancient 
entrance, which was wholly barbarous and 
offensive to the eyes from its disgusting 
rusticity. All this part of the town bore 
marks of the age in which it was built ; for, in spite of 
men's obstinacy in praising the antique at the expense 
of the modern, it must be admitted that the first attempts 
in every sort of art are always clumsy. 

Babouc mingled with a crowd of people composed 
of the dirtiest and the ugliest of both sexes. This crowd 
was stupidly urging its way into a large and gloomy 
building. From the continual mumbling, the move- 
ment he noticed, the money some people gave to others 
for the right to sit down, he thought he was in a market 
where rush-bottomed chairs were sold ; but very soon, 
noticing that several women knelt down and glanced 
sideways at the men while- they pretended to be gazing 
fixedly in front of them, he perceived he was in a temple. 
Sharp, raucous, savage, discordant voices made the roof 
echo with ill-articulated sounds, exactly like the voices 
of asses when in the plains of the Pictaves they reply to 
the cowherd's horn which calls them. He put his hand 
on his ears ; but he was tempted to do the same with 
his eyes and nose, when he saw workmen enter the 
temple with picks and shovels. They raised a large 
stone and cast out to right and left the malodorous earth ; 
they then deposited a dead body in this opening and 
replaced the stone above it. 

*' What I " cried Babouc. " These nations bury their 



dead in the very places where they adore the divinity 1 
What 1 Their temples are paved with corpses 1 I am 
no longer surprised by the pestilential maladies which 
so often ravage Persepolis. The decay of the dead and 
of so many living people assembled and crowded in the 
same place is enough to poison the whole world. Ah 1 
What a disgusting town Persepolis is. I suppose the 
angels wish to destroy it in order to rebuild it better and 
to people it with less filthy inhabitants who can sing 
better. Providence must have its reasons ; let it work 
in its own way." 



MEANWHILE the sun had reached the 
zenith of its course. Babouc was engaged 
to dine at the other end of the town with a 
lady to whom he had a letter of introduc- 
tion from her husband, an officer in the army. He first 
took a few turns through Persepolis; he saw other 
temples better built and ornamented, filled with polite 
persons and echoing with harmonious music ; he noticed 
the public fountains which, although ill-placed, struck 
his sight with their beauty, squares where the best kings 
who had governed Persia seemed to breathe through 
bronze ; other squares where he heard the people cry : 
" When shall we see the master we adore .? " He 
admired the magnificent bridges thrown across the river, 
the superb and useful quays, the palaces built to right 
and left, an immense building where thousands of old 
soldiers, wounded and victorious, gave thanks every day 
to the god of armies. Finally, he entered the lady's 
house and found her awaiting him for dinner with a 
polite assembly. The house was neat and embellished, 
the meal delicious, the lady young, beautiful, witty, 
engaging, the company worthy of her; and Babouc 
said to himself continually : 

*' The angel Ituriel jests at the world when he thinks 
of destroying so charming a town." 




BUT he noticed that the lady, who had begun 
by asking tenderly for news of her husband, at 
the end of the meal spoke still more tenderly to 
a youthful mage. He noticed a magistrate who, 
in his wife's presence, pressed sharply upon the widow, 
and the indulgent widow had one hand round the magis- 
trate's neck while she held out the other to a very hand- 
some and very modest young citizen. The magistrate's 
wife was the first to leave the table in order to converse 
in a neighbouring room with her spiritual director who 
arrived very late after having been expected for dinner ; 
and the eloquent spiritual director esdiorted her in the 
neighbourmg room with so much vehemence and unction 
that when the lady returned her eyes were swimming, 
her cheeks inflamed, her walk uncertain and her speech 

Babouc then began to fear that the jinn Ituriel was 
right. His talent for obtaining confidence obtained 
him a knowledge of the lady's secrets that same day; 
she confided to him her taste for the young mage, and 
assured him that he would find the equivalent of what 
he had seen in her house in all the houses of Persepolis. 
Babouc concluded that such a society could not endure, 
that jealousy, discord, vengeance must desolate every 
house ; that tears and blood must flow every day ; that 
husbands would certainly kill their wives' lovers or be 
killed by them ; and that, in short, Ituriel would do 
well to destroy immediately a town given up to continual 




HE was plunged in these gloomy thoughts 
when there came to the door a grave person- 
age in a black cloak who humbly asked to 
speak to the young magistrate. Without 
rising, without looking at him the yoimg magistrate 
proudly and negligently handed him some papers and 
dismissed him. Babouc asked who this man was. The 
mistress of the house whispered him : 

"He is one of the best lawyers in the town ; he has 
been studying law for fifty years. The gentleman who 
is only twenty-five, Mid. has been legal satrap for two 
days, has just ordered him to make an abstract of a law- 
suit which he is to judge to-morrow and which he has 
not yet looked at." 

•* The young giddy-pate does well," said Babouc, 
"to ask an old man's advice; but why is the old man 
not the judge ? ** 

•• You are jesting," he was told. " Those who have 
grown old in the lower and laborious posts never attain 
dignities. The young man has an important position 
because his father is rich and because the right of 
administering justice is bought here like a dairy-firm." 

" O morals 1 O unhappy town 1 " cried Babouc. 
" This is the height of disorder ; obviously those who 
buy the right of judging, sell their judgments ; I see 
nothing but abysms of iniquity here.* 

As he was expressing his grief and surprise in this 
way, a young warrior who had returned that very day 
from the army said to him : 


" Why do you think that legal posts should not be 
bought ? I myself bought the right to face death at 
the head of two thousand men whom I command ; this 
year it has cost me forty thousand gold pieces to sleep 
on the ground in red clothes for thirty nights consecutively 
and then to receive two smart arrow wounds which I still 
feel. If I ruin myself to serve the Persian Emperor 
whom I have never seen, the legal satrap may well pay 
something to have the pleasure of hearing people's 

Babouc in his indignation could not prevent himself 
from condcnining mentally a country where the dignities 
of peace and war w-: re put up to auction ; he hastily 
concluded that war and the laws must be absolutely 
unknown there and that, even if Ituriel did not exter- 
minate this nation, it would perish by its own detestable 

His bad opinion was still more confirmed by the 
arrival of a fat man who, having saluted the whole com- 
pany with great familiarity, approached the young officer 
and said : 

** I can only lend you fifty thousand gold pieces, for 
this year the customs of the Empire have only brought 
me in three hundred thousand." 

Babouc inquired who was the man who complained 
of earning so little ; he learned that in Persepolis there 
were forty plebeian kings who had the Empire of Persia 
on lease and paid something for it to the monarch. 


The Dec/aimers 

AFTER dinner he visited one of the most superb 
temples of the town ; he sat down among a 
crowd of women and men who had come there 
to pass the time. A mage appeared in an 
elevated machine and talked for a long time about vice 
and virtue. This mage divided into several headings 
that which did not need dividing; he methodically 
proved everything that was obvious and taught what 
everybody knew. He was frigidly impassioned and 
departed sweating and out of breath. The whole 
assembly then awoke and considered that it had taken 
part in a lesson. Babouc said : 

" Here is a man who has done his best to bore two 
or three hundred of his fellow-citizens ; but his inten- 
tions were good ; that is not a reason for destroying 

After leaving this assembly, he was taken to see a 
public spectacle which was given every day of the year ; 
it was in a sort of basilica, at one end of which a palace 
could be seen. The most beautiful women of Persepolis, 
the most important satraps, all ranged in order, formed 
so fair a sight that Babouc at first thought this was the 
whole spectacle. Two or three persons who seemed to 
be kings and queens soon appeared at the front of the 
palace ; their speech was very different from that of the 
people ; it was measured, harmonious and sublime. 
Nobody went to sleep. Everybody listened in profound 
silence which was only interrupted by expressions of 
public sensibility and admiration. The duty of kings, 


the love of virtue, the dangers of the passions, were 
expressed by strokes so keen and touching that Babouc 
was moved to tears. He had no doubt that the heroes 
and heroines, the kings and queens he had just heard, 
were the preachers or the Empire. He even intended 
to persuade Ituriel to come and listen to them, feeling 
sure that such a spectacle would for ever reconcile him 
with the town. 

As soon as this fSte was over, he desired to see the 
principal queen who had expressed so noble and so pure 
a morality in this beautiful palace. He was introduced 
to her Majesty; he was taken up a narrow stairway to 
an ill-furnished apartment on the second floor, where he 
found a badly-dressed woman, who said to him with a 
noble and pathetic air : 

" This occupation does not bring me enough to live ; 
one of the princes you saw has left me with child ; I 
must soon he in. I have no money and without money 
one cannot lie in." 

Babouc gave her a hundred pieces of gold, saying : 

** If this were the only thing amiss in the town, Ituriel 
would be wrong to be so angry." 


FROM there he went and passed the evening 
among the merchants of useless magnificences. 
He was taken there by an intelligent man with 
whom he had become acquainted ; he bought 
what pleased him and it was politely sold to him for 
much more than it was worth. When they got home 
his friend pointed out how much he had been cheated. 
Babouc wrote the merchant's name in his tablets in 
order that Ituriel might pick him out on the day when 
the town was punished. While he was writing someone 
knocked at the door. It was the merchant himself who 
had come to bring back his purse which Babouc had 
accidentally left behind on the counter. 

** How can it be," cried Babouc, ** that you are so 
punctilious and so generous when you were not ashamed 
to sell me these trinkets at four times their value } " 

*' Any merchant of reputation in this town," replied 
the tradesman, " would have brought back your purse; 
but you were deceived when you were told that I sold 
you what you bought at my shop at four times its value. 
I sold it to you at ten times its value. And this is so 
true that if you tried to sell it in a month's time you 
could not obtain a tenth of what you had paid for it. 
But nothing could be juster ; the value of these frivolous 
things lies in men's caprice; that caprice feeds the 
hundred workmen I employ ; it gives me a large house, 
a comfortable vehicle, horses ; it excites industry, keeps 
up taste, circulation and abundance. I sell the same 
trifles to the neighbouring nations more expensively 
than to you, and in this way I am useful to the Empire." 

After a little consideration Babouc struck him ofl^ his 



The Controversialists 

BABOUC, in great uncertainty as to what he 
should think of Persepolis, resolved to see the 
mages and the scholars ; for some study wisdom 
and others religion, and he flattered himself that 
they would obtain mercy for the rest of the people. 
The next day he went to a college of mages. The 
archimandrite confessed that he had an income of one 
hundred thousand crowns owing to his having made a 
vow of poverty, and that he enjoyed considerable authority 
by virtue of his vow of humility ; after which he left 
Babouc in the hands of a little friar who did the honours 
of the place. 

While this friar was pointing out to him the mag- 
nificences of this house of penitence, the rumour was 
spread that he had come to reform all such houses. He 
immediately received memorials from every one of them ; 
and all the memorials in substance said : 

" Preserve us and destroy all the others." 

According to their apologies, all these societies were 
necessary ; according to their mutual accusations they 
all deserved to be abolished. He was amazed that 
every one of them desired to command the universe in 
order to edify it. 

There came to him a little man who was a demi- 
mage, saying : 

" I see that the work is about to be completed, for 
Zerdust has returned to the earth ; little girls prophesy 
while they are pinched in front and whipped behind. 
Therefore, we ask for your protection against the great 



" What ! '* said Babouc. " Against the Pontiff King 
who lives in Tibet ? " 

" Against him." 

** Then you are at war with him, and are raising armies 
against him ? " 

** No, but he says that man is free and we do not 
believe it; we denounce him in little books which he 
does not read ; he has scarcely heard us spoken of ; 
he has simply had us condemned, as a master orders 
the destruction of the caterpillars in his garden." 

Babouc shuddered at the madness of these men who 
made a profession of wisdom, at the intrigues of those 
who had renounced the world, at the ambition and 
arrogant covetousness of those who taught humility and 
disinterestedness; he concluded that Ituriel had good 
reasons for destroying the whole brood. 

The Critics 

HAVING retired home, he sent for some new 
books to dissipate his distress, and he invited 
several scholars to dinner for the purpose of 
recreation. Twice as many came as he had 
invited, like wasps attracted by honey. These parasites 
were urgent to eat and talk; they praised two sets of 
persons, the dead and themselves, but never their con- 
temporaries, except the master of the house. If one of 
them made a witty remark, the others lowered their 
eyes and bit their lips in annoyance because they had 
not said it themselves. They had less dissimulation 
than the mages because the objects of their ambition 
were smaller. Each of them sought the post of a lackey 
and the reputation of a great man ; they said insulting 
things to each other under the delusion that they were 
being witty. They had heard something of Babouc's 
mission. One of them privately begged him to exter- 
minate an author who had not sufficiently praised him 
five years before ; another asked for the death of a citizen 
who had never laughed at his comedies ; a third required 
the extinction of the Academy because he had never 
been able to get into it. When the meal was over, 
each of them went away alone, because in the whole 
gang there were not two men who could endure each 
other or even speak except at the houses of the rich 
men who invited them to their tables. Babouc felt it 
would be no great hardship if these vermin perished in 
the general destruction. 



The Philosophers 

AS soon as he had got rid of them, he began to 
read some new books. He at once recognised 
the spirit of his guests. He read with indigna- 
tion those journals of calumny, those archives 
of bad taste, dictated by envy, baseness and hunger; 
those cowardly satires where the vulture is spared and 
the dove torn to pieces ; those novels devoid of imagina- 
tion where are to be found the portraits of so many 
women whom the author does not know. 

He threw all these detestable works in the fire and 
went out in the evening for a walk. He was introduced 
to an old scholar who had not come to increase the 
number of his parasites. This scholar always avoided 
the crowd; was acquainted with men, profited by it, 
and was reserved in his communications. Babouc talked 
to him regretfully of what he had read and seen. 

" You have been reading very jpaltry books," said 
this wise man of letters, ** but in all ages and countries 
and in all genres^ the bad abounds and the good is rare. 
You received the dregs of pedantry in your house because 
in all professions those who are least worthy to appear 
always thrust themselves forward with the greatest 
impudence. Truly wise men live among themselves, 
in retired tranquillity ; among us there are still men and 
books worthy of your attention." 

While he was speaking, they were joined by another 
man of letters ; their talk was so pleasant and instructive, 
lifted so far above prejudices and so agreeable to virtue, 
that Babouc confessed he had never heard anything 
like it. 



" Such men," he said to himself, " the angel IturicI 
will never dare to touch or, if he does, he will indeed 
be pitiless." 

Though reconciled with the men of letters, he was 
still angry with the rest of the nation. 

** You are a foreigner," a judicious man said to him, 
** abuses crowd before your eyes and the good which is 
hidden or which sometimes results from these very 
abuses escapes you." 

He then discovered that among the men of letters 
were some who were not envious and that there were 
even virtuous men among the mages. He finally realised 
that these large corporations, which seemed to be pre- 
paring a common ruin for themselves by their rivalries, 
were after all useful institutions ; that each corporation 
of mages acted as a curb to its rivals ; that if these com- 
petitors differed in some of their opinions they never- 
theless all taught the same morality, educated the people 
and lived in submission to the laws, like tutors who 
watch over the son of a house while the master watches 
over them. He became acquainted with several of 
them and found heavenly minds among them. He 
even learned that there had been very great men among 
the madmen who wanted to make war on the great 
Lama. Finally, he suspected that the morals of Perse- 
polis might be like its buildings, some of which had 
seemed pitiful to him while others had ravished him 
with admiration. 


The Law-court 

HE said to his man of letters : 
** I thoroughly understand that these mages, 
whom I thought so dangerous, are in fact 
most useful, especially when a wise govern- 
ment prevents them from making themselves too im- 
portant ; but you will admit that your young magistrates, 
who purchase the post of judge as soon as they have 
learned to ride a horse, must display the most ridiculous 
incompetence in the law-courts as well as the most 
perverse iniquity. It would surely be better to give 
these posts to mature lawyers who have spent their whole 
lives in weighing pros and cons." 

The man of letters replied : 

** You saw our army before you came to Persepolis ; 
you know our young officers fight very well, although 
they buy their commissions ; perhaps you will see that 
our young magistrates do not judge badly, although 
they have purchased the right of giving judgment." 

The next day he was taken to the chief law-court 
where an important sentence was to be promulgated. 
The case was familiar to everyone. All the elderly 
lawyers who discussed it were uncertain in their opinions ; 
they cited dozens of laws, none of which was really 
applicable to the root of the question. They looked at 
the case from a hundred points of view, none of which 
was the true one ; and the judges came to a decision in 
less time than the lawyers had spent in uncertainty. 
Their judgment was nearly unanimous ; it was a good 
judgment because they followed the light of reason ; 
and the others had given wrong opinions because they 
had only consulted their books. 



BABOUC decided that there were often very 
good sides to abuses. On the same day he saw 
that the wealth of the financiers, which had so 
much disgusted him, might produce an excellent 
effect; for the Emperor needed money, and with their 
aid he found in an hour more than he could have raised 
in six months by ordinary means. He saw that these 
large clouds, swollen with the dew of the earth, gave 
it back what they had received from it in rain. More- 
over, the children of these new men, often better educated 
than those of older families, were sometimes far more 
able ; for there is nothing to prevent a man from being 
a good judge, a brave soldier or an able statesman, 
when his father has been a good reckoner.. 


9rt<rt^ Qtn^t >MI)^ can piMtsie bmi 


The Ministry 

LITTLE by little Babouc pardoned the avidity of 
the financier who is not fundamentally greedier 
than other men, and who is necessary to society. 
He forgave the madness of those who ruined 
themselves to become judges and officers, because this 
madness produces great magistrates and heroes. He 
forgave the envy of men of letters, because he found 
among them men who enlightened the world ; he grew 
reconciled with ambitious and intriguing mages, for 
among them there were more great virtues than little 
vices ; but he still found much to complain of, especially 
the gallantries of the ladies, and the miseries which 
must result from them filled him with pain and anxiety. 

Since he wished to become familiar with all conditions 
of men, he went to call upon a minister ; but on the way 
he continually dreaded lest some woman should be 
murdered in his presence by her husband. When he 
reached the statesman's house, he waited two hours in 
the antechamber before he was announced and two 
hours more afterwards. During this interval he made 
up his mind to recommend this minister and his insolent 
lackeys to the attention of the angel Ituriel. The ante- 
chamber was filled with ladies of all ranks, mages of all 
colours, judges, merchants, officers and pedants ; all com- 
plained of the minister. The miser and the usurer 

" This man certainly pillages the provinces.** 

The capricious reproached him with being fantastic. 

The voluptuous said : 

** He thinks of nothing but pleasure." The intriguer 




flattered himself that he would soon be ruined by a plot. 
The women hoped that there would soon be a younger 

Babouc listened to their talk. He could not prevent 
himself from saying : 

" This man is very fortunate, he has all his enemies 
in his antechamber ; his power crushes those who envy 
him ; he sees those who detest him at his feet." 

At last he entered ; and he saw a little old man bowed 
with the weight of years and aflfairs, but still active and 
full of intelligence. 

He was pleased with Babouc and Babouc thought 
him an estimable man. The conversation became 
interesting. The minister confessed that he was a very 
unhappy man ; that he was supposed to be rich and 
was in fact poor ; that people thought him all-powerful 
while he was always being thwarted ; that he had never 
done a favour to anyone who did not prove ungrateful 
and that he had scarcely had one moment of consolation 
during forty years of continual labour. Babouc was 
touched and thought that if this man had erred and the 
angel Ituriel wished to punish him, the way to do it 
was not to kill him but to leave him his post. 

Conjugal Relations 

WHILE he was talking to the minister, the 
fair lady with whom Babouc had dined sud- 
denly entered the room. Her eyes and brow 
showed symptoms of pain and anger. She 
broke out into reproaches against the statesman ; she 
shed tears; she complained bitterly that her husband 
had been refused a place to which he was eligible by 
birth and which was due to his services and his wounds ; 
she expressed herself so strongly, her complaints were 
made so gracefully, she overcame objections with so 
much skill, she brought forward reasons with so much 
eloquence, that she did not leave the room until she had 
made her husband's fortune. 

Babouc handed her from the room. 

"Is it possible, madam," said he, " that you should 
give yourself all this trouble for a man you do not love 
and from whom you have everything to fear } " 

*• A man I do not love ! " she cried. " My husband 
is the best friend I have in the world and I would sacrifice 
anything in the world for him except my lover ; and he 
would do anything for me except leave his mistress. I 
should like you to meet her ; she is a charming woman, 
full of wit, of the most agreeable character; we are 
supping together this evening, with my husband and 
my little mage ; come and share our joy." 

The lady took Babouc home with her. The husband 
who arrived in the depths of despair met his wife with 
transports of joy and gratitude ; he kissed his wife, his 
mistress, the little mage and Babouc. Concord, gaiety, 
wit and all the graces were the soul of this meal. 


" Those who are sometimes called unvirtuous women,** 
said the fair lady with whom he was supping, ** almost 
always have the merits of a virtuous man. To con- 
vince you of this, come and dine with me to-morrow 
with the fair Teone. She is torn to pieces by a few 
old vestals but she does more good than all of them 
together. She would not do a slight injustice to further 
her greatest interest ; she gives her lover none but 
generous advice ; she is concerned only for his fame ; 
he would blush before her if he missed an occasion of 
doing good, for nothing encourages virtuous actions 
more than to have a mistress whose esteem one desires 
as witness and judge of one's conduct." 



ABOUC kept the appointment. He found a 
house devoted to all the pleasures. Teone 

B reigned over them ; she could* speak to everyone 
in his own language. Her natural intelligence 
set everyone at ease ; she pleased almost without wishing 
it, she was as amiable as she was benevolent, and the 
value of all her good qualities was increased by the fact 
that she was beautiful. 

^abouc, though he was a Scythian, and the envoy 
of a jinn, perceived that if he remained in Persepolis 
he would forget Ituriel for Teone. He came to love 
the town whose inhabitants were polite, gentle and 
benevolent, though light, slanderous and full of vanity. 
He feared lest Persepolis should be condemned ; he 
even dreaded the account he had to render. 


The Statue 

HE rendered his account in the following way. 
He caused the best metal founder of the town 
to make a statuette composed of every metal 
and of the most precious and most worthless 
stones and earths. And he took it to Ituriel. 

*' Will you break this pretty statuette," he said, 
" because it is not all gold and diamonds ? " 

Ituriel guessed his meaning ; he resolved not even to 
think of correcting Persepolis and to let the world go on 
as it is ; for, said he, if all is not well, all is tolerable. 
Persepolis, then, was allowed to remain and Babouc was 
very far from complaining like Jonah, who was angry 
because Nineveh was not destroyed. But when a man 
has been three days in the belly of a whale he is not so 
good-tempered as when he has been to the opera, to the 
theatre and has supped in good company. 




An African Tale 


TIS a maxim falsely established that we must not 
commit a little ill if a great good will result. 
Saint Augustine was entirely of this opinion, 
as may easily be seen by the account of a little 
adventure which happened in his diocese, during the 
proconsulate of Septimus Acindynus, and related in the 
Book of the City of God. 

At Hippo there lived an old parish priest, a great 
inventor of confraternities, confessor to all the girls 
in the quarter, with the reputation of being a man inspired 
by God, because he dabbled in fortune-telling, an occupa- 
tion in which he had some success. 

One day they brought him a girl named Cosi-Sancta, 
the most beautiful in the whole province. Her father 
and mother were Jansenists, who had brought her up 
in the principles of the most rigid virtue ; and not one 
of all her lovers had ever been able to cause her one 
moment's lack of attention during her prayers. She 
had been betrothed for some days to a little, dried-up, 
old man named Capito, a prominent lawyer of Hippo. 
He was a peevish, surly, little man, not without wit but 
pursy in his conversation, sneering and rather sharp- 
tongued in his jests. He was as jealous as a Venetian 
and nothing in the world would have induced him to 
endure the position of being friendly to his wife's lovers. 


The poor young creature was doing all she could to love 
him, because he was to be her husband ; she was trying 
as hard as she could but without the least success. 

She came to consult her parish priest to know whether 
her marriage would be happy. The old fellow said to 
her in prophetic tones : " Daughter, your virtue will 
cause many misfortunes, but you will one day be made 
a Saint through having been three times unfaithful to 
your husband." 

This oracle astounded and cruelly embarrassed this 
fair and innocent girl. She wept and asked for an 
explanation, thinking that these words hid some mystic 
sense ; but all the explanation she could obtain was 
that the three times must not be taken to mean three 
rendezvous with the same lover, but three different 

Cosi-Sancta then protested violently ; she even insulted 
the parish priest and vowed she should never be made 
a Saint. But she was, as you will see. 

Soon after, she was married. The wedding feast 
was extremely gallant; she endured quite well all the 
unpleasant talk she had to undergo, all the insipid 
equivocations, all the ill-concealed grossness with which 
the modesty of young brides is usually embarrassed. 
She danced very gracefully with several extremely 
handsome and well-built young men in whom her husband 
detected a very graceless air. 

She got into bed with little Capito with some repug- 
nance. She spent most of the night in sleep and woke 
up much preoccupied. Her husband was, however, less 
the subject of her reflections than a young man named 
Ribaldos, who had occupied her mind without her 
knowing it. This young man seemed to have been 
formed by the hands of Love ; he had Love's graces, 
boldness and trickery ; he was rather indiscreet but 
only with those who wished him well ; he was the darling 
of Hippo. He had set all the women of the town at 


loggerheads and was in the same position himself with 
all the husbands and mothers. He usually fell in 
love from heedlessness and a little from vanity ; but 
he was really in love with Cosi-Sancta and loved her the 
more madly because it was more difficult to conquer her. 

Like a man of wit he first tried to make himself agree- 
able to the husband. He made him a thousand advances, 
praised his good looks, his easy and gallant wit. He 
lost money to him at play and made some unimportant 
confidence to him every day. Cosi-Sancta thought him 
a most charming young man. She was already more 
in love with him than she realised ; she did not guess it, 
but her husband guessed it for her. Although he was 
as conceited as a little man can be, he had no doubt that 
Ribaldos's visits were not made to him alone. He found 
some pretext to quarrel with him and forbade him the 

Cosi-Sancta was very sorry for this but dared not 
say so ; and Ribaldos, rendered still more amorous 
by these difficulties, spent his whole time waiting for 
moments when he could see her. He disguised him- 
self as a monk, as a woman pedlar, as a Punch and 
Judy showman ; but he did not do enough to triumph 
over his mistress and did too much not to be recog- 
nised by the husband. If Cosi-Sancta had been in 
league with her lover they would have arranged their 
measures so well that the husband would never have 
suspected anything; but as she was struggling against 
her inclination and had nothing to reproach herself 
with, she saved everything except appearances, and her 
husband thought her most guilty. 

The little old man, who was very irascible and thought 
his honour depended upon his wife's fidelity, insulted 
her cruelly and punished her because someone had 
thought her beautiful. She found herself in the most 
horrible situation in which a woman can be, accused 
unjustly, maltreated by a husband to whom she was 


faithful and torn by a violent passion she was trying to 

She thought that if her lover ceased to pursue her, 
her husband might cease his injustice and that she 
would be fortunate enough to recover from a passion 
which was no longer fed. With this idea she plucked 
up courage to write the following letter to Ribaldos : 

** If you have any virtuous feeling, forbear to render 
me unhappy; you love me and your love exposes me 
to the suspicions and violence of a master I have taken 
for the remainder of my life. Would to Heaven this 
were the only risk I may have to run ! Pity me and 
cease your pursuit. I beg you by that very love which 
renders you unhappy and me also, and which can never 
make you happy." 

Poor Cosi-Sancta had not foreseen that a letter so 
tender, though so virtuous, would have an effect exactly 
contrary to that she hoped for. It inflamed her lover's 
heart more than ever and he resolved to risk his life 
in order to see his mistress. 

Capito, who was fool enough to want to know every- 
thing, and who had good spies, was warned that Ribaldos 
had disguised himself as a begging friar to ask his 
wife's charity. He thought he was lost; he imagined 
that a friar's gown was more dangerous than any other 
to the honour of a husband. He posted servants to beat 
brother Ribaldos and was but too well served. When 
the young man entered the house he was received by 
these gentry ; in spite of his cries that he was an honest 
friar and that poor monks are not to be treated in this 
way, he was beaten and died a fortnight later from a 
blow on the head. All the women in the town mourned 
him. Cosi-Sancta was inconsolable ; even Capito was 
sorry, but for another reason, for he found he had involved 
himself in a very unpleasant affair. 

Ribaldos was a relative of the proconsul Acindynus. 
The Roman wished to inflict an exemplary punishment 


for this assassination ; and, since he had formerly 
quarrelled more than once with the law-courts of Hippo, 
he was not sorry to be able to hang one of their members, 
and he was very glad that the lot had fallen on Capito, 
who was the vainest and most intolerable pettifogger 
in the whole country. 

So Cosi-Sancta had seen her lover murdered and 
was near to seeing her husband hanged ; and all because 
she had been virtuous, for, as I have already said, if she 
had granted her favours to Ribaldos, the husband would 
have been much more skilfully deceived. 

Thus the first half of the priest's prediction was 
accomplished. Cosi-Sancta then remembered the oracle 
and began to fear she might carry out the rest of it; 
but, having reflected that no one can overcome his 
destiny, she abandoned herself to Providence, which led 
her to the goal by the most honest means imaginable. 

The proconsul Acindynus was a man more debauched 
than voluptuous, taking very little interest in prelimi- 
naries, brutal and familiar, a mere garrison hero, greatly 
dreaded in the province, with whom all the women in 
Hippo had had an afl^air solely to avoid quarrelling with 

He sent for Madam Cosi-Sancta, who arrived in tears ; 
but they made her only the more charming. 

** Your husband, madam," said he, ** is about to be 
hanged and only you can save him." 

" I would give my life for his," said the lady. 

** That is not what I ask," replied the proconsul, 

** And what must I do } " said she. 

" I only want one of your nights," replied the pro- 

** But they do not belong to me," said Cosi-Sancta, 
** they belong to my husband. I would give my blood 
to save him, but I cannot give my honour." 

** But suppose your husband consents ? " said the 


*' He is the master," replied the lady, " and every- 
one does as he pleases with his own property. But I 
know my husband, he will never consent ; he is a little 
man who would rather allow himself to be hanged than 
let anybody else touch me with the end of his finger." 

** That's what we shall see," said the judge in a rage. 

He had the criminal brought before him at once 
and gave him the choice of being hanged or a cuckold. 
There was no room for hesitation. The little man, 
however, was reluctant. At last he did what anyone 
else would have done in his place. His wife charitably 
saved his life ; and this was the first of the three times. 

The same day her son fell ill of a very extraordinary 
illness unknown to all the doctors of Hippo. There 
was only one doctor who knew how to cure this illness ; 
and he lived at Aquila, several leagues from Hippo. 
At that time it was forbidden for a doctor established 
at one town to exercise his profession in another. Cosi- 
Sancta herself was obliged to go to him at Aquila with 
her brother, whom she loved tenderly. On the way 
they were captured by brigands. The chief of these 
gentlemen thought her very charming ; and, as they 
were about to kill her brother, he went up to her and 
told her that if she would be a little kind to him, her 
brother should not be killed and that it would cost her 
nothing. The matter was urgent. She had just saved 
the life of a husband she did not love ; she was about to 
lose a brother she loved very much ; moreover, the 
dangerous state of her child alarmed her. There was 
not a moment to lose. She commended herself to 
God, did all that was required, and this was the second 
of the three times. 

She reached Aquila the same day and went to the 
doctor's house. He was one of those fashionable 
doctors who are sent for by women when they have 
the vapours or when there is nothing wrong with them 
at all. He was the confidential friend of some and the 


lover of others, a polite, obliging man, rather out of 
favour with the Medical Association, which he had often 
made the subject of jokes. 

Cosi-Sancta explained her child's illness and offered 
him a sestertium. (Notice that a sestertium was worth 
more than a thousand crowns in modern French money.) 

" Madam," said the gallant doctor, " that is not the 
money I require in payment. I would myself offer 
you all my property, if it were to your taste to be paid 
for the cures you are able to make ; only cure me of the 
malady you cause me and I will restore your child to 

The lady thought this proposition extravagant ; but 
fate had rendered her accustomed to strange things. 
The doctor was an obstinate man who would take no 
other price for his services. Cosi-Sancta's husband 
was not there for her to consult ; and how could she 
allow the child she adored to die for lack of the trivial 
help she could give him 1 She was as good a mother as 
sister. She purchased the remedy at the price demanded ; 
and this was the last of the three times. 

She returned to Hippo with her brother, who kept 
thanking her all the way for the courage with which she 
had saved his life. 

Thus, Cosi-Sancta through being too virtuous caused 
her lover to be murdered and her husband to be con- 
demned to death ; and, by being obliging, she saved 
the lives of her brother, her son and her husband. Such 
a woman was considered to be very useful to her family. 
After her death she was made a Saint because by mortify- 
ing herself she had done so much good to her relatives, 
and they carved on her tombstone : 

" A little ill for a great good." 

^ht jEkmi m$ (Mftb my eructol intU^i^ 









ONE day Memnon conceived the senseless 
project of being perfectly wise. At some time 
or other this folly has passed through every- 
one's head. Memnon said to himself: To 
be very wise, and consequently very happy, one has only 
to be without passions ; and nothing is easier, as everyone 
knows. First of all, I will never fall in love with a 
woman, for when I see a perfect beauty, I shall say to 
myself: One day those cheeks will be wrinkled, those 
lovely eyes will be red-rimmed, those round breasts will 
become flat and drooping, that fair head will be bald. 
Thus, I have only to see her now with the same eyes I 
shall see her with then, and certainly her head will not 
turn mine. 

In the second place, I shall always be sober; how- 
ever much I may be tempted by good cheer, delicious 
wine and the seductions of society, I shall only have to 
think of the results of excess — a heavy head, a loaded 
stomach, the loss of reason, health and time — and I shall 
then eat no more than I need; my health will always 
be good, my ideas always clear and luminous. It is all 
so easy that there is no merit in it. 

After that, said Memnon, I must think a little of 
my income. My desires are moderate; my money is 
solidly invested with the Receiver-General of the Finances 
of Nineveh ; I have enough to live independently, and 
this is the greatest of all blessings. I shall never endure 


the cruel necessity of paying court to anyone ; I shall 
envy no one and no one shall envy me. And this too is 
very easy. I have friends, he went on, I shall keep 
them, since they will have nothing to contend about with 
me. I shall never be out of temper with them nor 
they with me ; there is no difficulty in that. 

Having made his little plan of wisdom in his room, 
Memnon looked out the window. He saw two women 
walking under the plane-trees near his house. One was 
old and seemed to be thinking about nothing ; the 
other was young and pretty and seemed to be in deep 
thought. She was sighing, she was weeping, and was 
all the more beautiful in consequence. Our wise man 
was touched, not by the lady's beauty (he was quite sure 
he could not feel such a weakness), but by her affliction. 
He went down and spoke to the young lady of Nineveh 
with the idea of consoling her with wisdom. The fine 
creature told him in the most natural and touching 
manner about all the wrongs done her by an uncle she 
did not possess; how by his artifices he had deprived 
her of property she had never owned, and all she had to 
fear from his violence. 

" You seem to me a man able to give such good 
advice," she said, " that if you would be kind enough 
to come home with me and to examine my affairs, I am 
sure you would be able to get me out of these cruel 

Memnon had no hesitation in following her to examine 
her affairs with wisdom and to give her good advice. 

The afflicted lady took him to a perfumed room and 
made him sit down with her on a large sofa, where 
they both sat facing each other with their legs crossed. 
As the lady talked she lowered her eyes, from which a 
few tears escaped, and when she raised them they always 
met the gaze of the wise Memnon. Their talk was full 
of tenderness which increased every time they looked 
at each other. Memnon took her affairs extremely to 


heart and every moment felt a greater desire to oblige so 
virtuous and so unfortunate a person. Little by little, 
in the warmth of conversation, they ceased to face each 
other. Their legs were no longer crossed. Memnon 
advised her so closely and gave her such tender counsel 
that neither of them could discuss affairs and did not 
know where they were. 

At this stage the uncle arrived, as you may well 
suppose ; he was armed from head to foot and the 
first thing he said, as was natural, was that he would 
kill the wise Memnon and his niece ; and the last remark 
which escaped him was that he might be forgiving for a 
large sum of money. Memnon was obliged to give all 
he had with him. At that time a man was lucky to get 
off so cheaply; America had not yet been discovered 
and afflicted ladies were then not nearly so dangerous as 
they are to-day. 

Memnon went home in shame and despair, and found 
a note inviting him to dine with some of his intimate 
friends. If I stay at home, he said, my mind will dwell 
upon my unlucky adventure and I shall not be able to 
eat ; I shall be ill ; it would be much better to go and 
take a frugal repast with my intimate friends. In the 
pleasure of their society I shall forget the folly I com- 
mitted this morning. He went to the gathering and his 
friends thought him a little low-spirited. They made 
him drink to get rid of his sorrow. A little wine taken 
moderately is a remedy for body and soul. Thus thought 
the wise Memnon; and he got drunk. After dinner 
somebody suggested gambling. Limited play among 
friends is a respectable pastime. They gambled ; he 
lost all he had in his purse and four times as much on his 
word of honour. The game led to a dispute, which 
grew warm ; one of his intimate friends threw a dice- 
box at his head and knocked out an eye. The wise 
Memnon was taken home drunk, moneyless, and short 
of an eye. 


He slept off his wine ; and when his head was freer 
he sent his servant for money to the Receiver-General 
of the Finances of Nineveh in order to pay his intimate 
friends ; he was informed that his debtor had that 
morning become a fraudulent bankrupt, to the distress of 
a hundred families. Memnon in a rage went to court 
with a bandage over his eye and a petition in his hand to 
ask justice of the king against the bankrupt. In a 
drawing-room he met several ladies who all wore with 
an air of ease hoops twenty-four feet in circumference. 
One of them who knew him slightly, looked at him 
sideways and said to him : 

•' Horrors I " 

Another who knew him better, said to him : 

" Good-evening, Mr. Memnon ; I am delighted to 
see you, Mr. Memnon ; how did you come to lose an 
eye, Mr. Memnon ? " 

And she went on without waiting for his reply. Mem- 
non hid himself in a corner and waited for the moment 
when he could throw himself at the monarch's feet. 
The moment came. He thrice kissed the ground and 
presented his petition. His most gracious Majesty 
received it very favourably and handed it to one of his 
satraps to give him an account of it. The satrap took 
Memnon aside and said to him haughtily and with a 
bitter sneer : 

" You are a one-eyed fool to address yourself to the 
king rather than to me, and still more foolish to dare 
to ask for justice against an honest bankrupt whom I 
honour with my protection, and who is the nephew of 
one of the waiting-women belonging to my mistress. 
Give up this affair, my friend, if you wish to keep the 
eye you still have." 

Memnon, having thus renounced in the morning 
women, the excesses of the table, gambling, all quarrels 
and the court especially, before night had been deceived 
and robbed by a fair lady, had got drunk, gambled. 


quarrelled, lost an eye and had been to court where he 
had been laughed at. 

Petrified with astonishment and overcome with grief 
he returned with death in his heart. He went to his 
house and found the bailiflFs taking away his furniture 
on behalf of his creditors. He remained under a plane- 
tree almost in a swoon ; there he met the fair lady of the 
morning who was out for a walk with her dear uncle, and 
who burst out laughing when she saw Memnon with his 
bandage. Night fell ; Memnon lay down on some straw 
near the wall of his own house. He had an attack of 
fever; he fell asleep and a celestial spirit appeared to 
him in a dream. 

The spirit glittered with light. He had six beautiful 
wings but no feet, no head, no tail, and was like nothing 
at all. 

*' Who are you ? " said Memnon. 

" Your good angel," replied the other. 

" Then give me back my eye, my health, my property, 
my wisdom," said Memnon. 

He then related how he had lost them all in one 

" Adventures like this never happen to us in the world 
where I live," said the spirit. 

** And what world do you live in ? " said the afflicted 

" My country," he replied, *' is five hundred million 
leagues from the sun in a small star near Sirius, which 
you can see from here." 

" Wonderful country ! " said Memnon. " What ! 
Among you there are no devils of women to deceive a 
poor man, no intimate friends who win his money and 
knock out his eye, no bankrupts, no satraps who laugh 
at you when they refuse you justice ? " 

" No," said the inhabitant of the star, " nothing of the 
kind. We are never deceived by women, because we 
have none ; we never fall into excesses at table, because 


we do not eat ; we have no bankrupts, because we have 
neither gold nor silver ; we cannot have our eyes knocked 
out, because our bodies are not like yours ; and satraps 
never do us an injustice, because in our little star everyone 
is equal." 

Then said Memnon to him : 

" My lord, without women and without dinner, how 
do you spend your time ? " 

** In watching over other globes which are confided 
to our care," said the spirit, ** and I have come to console 

** Alas I " replied Memnon, ** why did you not come 
last night and prevent me from committing so many 
follies ? " ^ 

" I was with Assan, your elder brother," said the 
heavenly being. " He is more to be pitied than you. 
His gracious Majesty the King of the Indies, at whose 
court he has the honour to be, caused both his eyes to 
be knocked out on account of a small indiscretion, and 
at the present moment he is in prison, with chains on 
his hands and feet." 

" What is the use of having a good angel in our 
family," said Memnon, ** when of two brothers one 
has lost an eye and the other is blind, one is lying on straw 
and the other is in prison ? " 

" Your lot will change," replied the animal from 
the star. "It is true you will never have more than 
one eye ; but with that exception you will be com- 
paratively happy so long as you never form the silly 
plan of being perfectly wise." 

** Then it is somediing impossible to attain ? " cried 
Memnon, with a sigh. 

" Just as impossible," cried the other, ** as to be 
perfectly skilful, perfectly strong, perfectly powerful, 
perfectly happy. We ourselves are very far from it. 
There is one globe in which all that is to be found ; 
but in the hundred thousand millions of worlds scattered 


through space everything is connected by degrees. 
There is less wisdom and pleasure in the second than in 
the first, less in the third than in the second, and so on 
down to the last, where everyone is completely mad." 

** I am very much afraid," said Memnon, " that our 
little terraqueous globe is precisely the mad house 
of the universe of which you do me the honour to inform 

" Not altogether," said the spirit, ** but near it ; 
everything must be in its place." 

" But then," said Memnon, " certain poets and 
philosophers must be very wrong to say that everything 
is for the best ? " 

** They are quite right," said the philosopher from 
above, ** in regard to the arrangement of the whole 

" Ah ! " replied poor Memnon, " I shall only believe 
that when I recover my lost eye." 





WHEN I was in the town of Benares on the 
banks of the Ganges, the ancient country 
of the Brahmins, I made every effort to 
obtain information. I understood Indian 
passably well ; I listened a great deal and noticed every- 
thing. I lodged with my correspondent Omri, the 
worthiest man I have ever known. He was a Brahmin, 
I am a Mohammedan ; we have never spoken an angry 
word of the subject of Mohammed and Brahma. We 
perform our ablutions in our own way, we drink the 
same lemonade, we eat the same rice, like two brothers. 

One day we went together to the pagoda of Gavani. 
There we saw several bands of fakirs, some of whom 
were Jangys or contemplative fakirs, and others were 
disciples of the ancient Gymnosophists, who led an active 
life. It is well known that they possess a learned language 
which is that of the ancient Brahmins and, in that language, 
a book which they call the Veda. It is certainly the 
most ancient book of all Asia, without excepting the 
Zend-Avesta. I passed a fakir who was reading this 

•• Ah I Wretched infidel 1 " he cried. " You have 
made me lose count of the number of vowels; and 
consequently my soul will enter the body of a hare 
instead of a parrot, as I had every reason to hope.** 

I gave him a rupee to console him. A few paces 
farther on I unluckily sneezed, and the noise awakened 
a fakir who was in an ecstasy. 

" Where am I ? ** said he. " What a horrible fall I 


I can no longer see the end of my nose ; the heavenly 
light has disappeared." 

" If I am the cause," said I, *' of your seeing at last 
farther than the end of your nose, here is a rupee to 
repair the ill I have done ; take back your heavenly 


Having thus discreetly extricated myself, I passed 
on to the other Gymnosophists. Several of them 
brought me very pretty little nails to stick in my arms 
and thighs in honour of Brahma. I bought their 
nails and used them to nail down my carpets. Some 
danced on their hands ; some swung on a loose cord ; 
others always limped. There were some who carried 
chains ; others a pack-saddle ; some hid their head 
under a bushel ; otherwise the pleasantest people imagin- 
able. My friend Omri took me into the cell belonging 
to one of the most famous ; he was called Bababec. 
He was as naked as a monkey and wore round his neck 
a large chain which weighed more than sixty pounds. 
He was sitting on a wooden chair, well furnished with the 
sharp points of nails, which stuck into his buttocks, 
and you would have thought he was on a satin bed. 
Numbers of women came to consult him ; he was the 
oracle of families and it might be said that he enjoyed 
a very great reputation. I was present at an important 
conversation between him and Omri. 

" Father," said Omri, " do you think that when I 
have passed through the test of the seven metempsychoses 
I shall attain to the dwelling of Brahma ? " 

" That depends," said the fakir ; ** in what manner 
do you live ^ " 

** I try," said Omri, " to be a good citizen, a good 
husband, a good father, a good friend ; to the rich I 
lend money without interest at times and I give it to 
the poor ; I labour to keep peace among my neighbours." 

" Do you ever stick nails in your backside ? " asked 
the Brahmin. 


*' Never, reverend father." 

** I am sorry," replied the fakir, " you will certainly 
never reach the nineteenth Heaven ; 'tis a pity." 

" Why," said Omri, "it is very well ; I am per- 
fectly content with my lot; what does the nineteenth 
or the twentieth Heaven matter to me, provided I do 
my duty during my pilgrimage and am well received 
at the last resting-place ? Is it not enough to be an 
honest man now, and then to be happy in the country 
of Brahma ? Into what Heaven do you think you will 
go, Mr. Bababec, with your nails and your chains ? " 

" The thirty-fifth," said Bababec. 

" I think it amusing," replied Omri, ** that you 
should assume you will be placed higher than me ; 
it can only be the effect of excessive ambition. You 
condemn those who seek for honours in this life; why 
do you want such great honours in the next ? Why do 
you suppose you will be better treated than I ? Learn 
that I give more in alms in ten days than you spend in 
ten years, for all the nails you stick into your backside. 
Much Brahma cares that you spend the day naked, 
with a chain round your neck; you do your country 
a great service ! I have a hundred times more esteem 
for a man who sows vegetables or plants trees than for 
all your friends who gaze at the ends of their noses 
or carry a pack-saddle from excessive nobility of soul." 

Having spoken thus, Omri softened down, flattered 
him, argued with him, and finally persuaded him to 
get rid of his nails and his chain and to come and live 
a decent life. He was cleaned, anointed with perfumed 
essences, and dressed properly; he lived a fortnight 
very soberly and confessed he was a hundred times 
happier than he had been before. But he lost his 
influence with the people ; the women no longer came 
to consult him ; so he left Omri and returned to his 
nails in order to retain esteem. 





I WAS born in the town of Candia in 1600. My 
father was the governor and I remember that a 
mediocre poet named Iro,^ who was harsh in no 
mediocre degree, wrote some bad verses in my 
praise where he said I was directly descended from 
Minos ; but my father having fallen into disgrace, he 
wrote other verses to show that I descended from Pasiphae 
and her lover. This Iro was a very evil creature and 
the most boring rascal on the whole island. 

At the age of fifteen I was sent by my father to study 
in Rome. I arrived there with the hope of learning 
every truth. For up till then I had been taught just 
the contrary, according to the usage of this evil world 
from China to the Alps. Monsignor Profondo, to 
whom I was recommended, was a singular man and one 
of the most terribly learned men in the whole world. 
He wanted to teach me the Categories of Aristotle and 
was on the point of putting me in the category of his 
Mignons ; luckily, I escaped. I saw processions, 
exorcisms, and peculations. It was said, but without 
a word of truth, that the Signora Olimpia, a person of 
great prudence, sold numerous things which should not 
be sold. I was at an age when all this seemed very 
amusing. A young lady of very tender morals, named 
Signora Fatelo, took it into her head to fall in love with 
me. She was courted by the reverend Father Poignardini 
^ Refers to R07, a. poet, one of Voltaire's numerous enemies. 


and by the reverend Father Aconite, young professed 
monks of an order which has ceased to exist. She 
reconciled them by giving me her favours ; but at the 
same time I ran the risk of being excommunicated and 
poisoned. I left highly delighted with the architecture 
of St. Peter's. 

I travelled in France ; it was during the reign of 
Louis the Just. The first question I was asked was if 
I should like for my lunch a small portion of the Marshal 
d'Ancre, whose flesh had been roasted by the people 
and was being distributed very cheaply to those who 
wanted it. 

This state was continually a prey to civil wars, some- 
times about a place in the Cabinet, sometimes about two 
pages of controversy. For more than sixty years this 
fire, sometimes smothered and sometimes violently 
blown, had desolated these beautiful climates. These 
were the liberties of the Gallican Church. 

" Alas 1 " said I. *' Yet the people of this nation 
are born mild ; what can have diverted them from their 
natural character ? They jest and take part in the 
Massacre of St. Bartholomew. Happy the time when 
they did nothing but jest ! " 

I crossed over into England ; there the same quarrels 
excited the same furies. Holy-minded Catholics had 
resolved for the good of the Church to blow up with 
powder the King, the Royal Family and the whole 
Parliament in order to rid England of these heretics. 

I was shown the place where the blessed Queen 
Mary, daughter of Henry VIII, had burned more than 
five hundred of her subjects. An Irish priest assured 
me that this was a very good action ; first, because those 
who were burned were English ; second, because they 
never took holy water and did not believe in St. Patrick's 
well. He was especially surprised that Queen Mary 
had not yet been canonised ; but he hoped she soon 
would be, when the Cardinal Nephew had a little leisure. 


I went to Holland, where I hoped to find more tran- 
quillity among a more phlegmatic people. When I 
arrived at the Hague they were cutting off the head of a 
venerable old man. It was the bald head of Berneveldt, 
the Prime Minister, the man who had done most for 
the republic. Touched by pity I inquired what was his 
crime and whether he had betrayed the state. 

" He did far worse," said a black-garbed preacher. 
" He believes that we can be saved by good works as 
well as by faith. You will realise that if such opinions 
were established, the republic could not endure and 
that severe laws are needed to repress such scandalous 

A profound politician of the country said to me with a 
sigh : 

" Alas ! Sir, this good time will not last for ever : 
the zeal of this nation is only the result of chance; 
fundamentally the people's character leans towards 
the abominable dogma of tolerance. One day it will 
come to that ; it makes one shudder." 

For my part, while waiting for the disastrous time 
of moderation and indulgence, I departed rapidly from 
a country where severity was not softened by any amenity 
and I embarked for Spain. 

The court was at Seville, the galleons had arrived 
safely, everything breathed abundance and joy in the 
loveliest season of the year. At the end of an avenue 
of orange and lemon trees I saw an immense arena 
surrounded by seats covered with precious draperies. 
The king, the queen, the infante, the infanta were 
there under a superb canopy. Opposite this august 
family was another, more elevated throne. I said to 
one of my travelling companions : 

** Unless that throne is reserved for God, I do not 
see who can occupy it." 

These indiscreet words were heard by a grave Spaniard 
and cost me dear. Meanwhile I supposed we were 


about to witness a passage of arms or a bull-fight, when 
the Grand Inquisitor appeared upon the throne, from 
which he blessed the king and the people. Then came 
an army of monks walking two by two, white, black, grey, 
with and without sandals ; with and without beards ; 
with pointed cowls and without cowls ; then came the 
executioner ; then, surrounded by Alguazils and grandees, 
came forty persons covered with sacks on which were 
painted devils and flames. They were Jews who would 
not wholly renounce Moses, Christians who had married 
their fellow-godmothers or who had not adored Our Lady 
of Atocha or had been unwilling to get rid of their ready 
money in favour of the friars. They sang some very 
beautiful prayers devoutly, after which all the guilty 
were slowly burned, which seemed to give the Royal 
Family much edification. 

At night, just as I was going to bed, there arrived 
two familiars of the Inquisition with the holy Her- 
mandad ; they embraced me tenderly and without 
saying a single word took me to a very cool cell, fur- 
nished with a straw bed and a fine crucifix. I remained 
there for six weeks, at the end of which the reverend 
father Inquisitor sent to beg that I would come and speak 
to him. He folded me in his arms with paternal affection ; 
he told me he was sincerely afflicted to hear that I had 
been so poorly accommodated ; but that all the apart- 
ments of the house were full and that another time he 
hoped I should be more comfortable. Afterwards he 
asked me cordially if I did not know why I was there. 
I told the reverend father that apparently it was on 
account of my sins. 

** Well I my dear child, for what sin ? Speak to me 
with confidence." 

However much I thought I could not guess ; he 
charitably put me on the right track. At last I remem- 
bered my indiscreet words. I was let off with a scourging 
and a fine of thirty thousand reals. I was taken to pay 


my respects to the Grand Inquisitor; he was a polite 
man who asked me what I thought of his little entertain- 
ment. I told him it was delicious and went to urge 
my companions to leave the country, beautiful as it is. 
They had had time to find out all the great things the 
Spaniards have done for religion. They had read the 
memoirs of the famous Bishop of Chiapa, from which it 
appears that ten million infidels in America had been 
stabbed, burned or drowned in order to convert them. 
I thought the Bishop exaggerated; but even if we 
reduce these sacrifices to five million victims, it would 
still be admirable. 

The desire to travel still urged me on. I had intended 
to finish my tour of Europe in Turkey ; so we set out. 
I made up my mind not to express my opinion about 
any festivals I might see. 

" These Turks," I said to my companions, " arc 
miscreants who have not been baptised and consequently 
will be much more cruel than the reverend father Inquisi- 
tors. Let us keep silent when we are among the 
Mohammedans. * * 

I went there. I was vastly surprised to find many more 
Christian churches in Turkey than there were in Candia. 
I even saw numerous groups of monks who were allowed 
to pray freely to the Virgin Mary, and to curse Moham- 
med, some in Greek, some in Latin, and others in 

*' What excellent people are the Turks 1 " cried I. 

The Greek Christians and the Latin Christians in 
Constantinople were mortal enemies ; these slaves perse- 
cuted each other like dogs which bite each other in the 
street and have to be separated with sticks by their 
masters. At that time the Grand Vizier gave his pro- 
tection to the Greeks. The Greek Patriarch accused me 
of having supped with the Latin Patriarch, and I was 
condemned in a full diva to a hundred strokes of the 
bastinado on the soles of my feet, or in lieu of that to a 


fine of five hundred sequins. The next day the Grand 
Vizier was strangled ; the day after his successor, who 
was for the party of the Latins and who was not strangled 
until a month after, condemned me to the same fine 
because I had supped with the Greek Patriarch. I was 
under the sad necessity of attending neither the Greek 
nor the Latin Church. To console myself I hired a 
very beautiful Circassian girl, who was the most tender 
creature in an intimate interview and the most devout 
in a mosque. One night in the soft transports of her 
love, she exclaimed as she embraced me : 

** Allah, Illah, Allah ! " These are the sacramental 
words of the Turks ; I thought they were those of love : 
so I exclaimed very tenderly : 

" Allah, Illah, Allah 1 " 

"Ah!" said she, "praise be to God the merciful! 
You are a Turk.*' 

I told her that I blessed him for having given me 
the strength and thought myself only too happy. In 
the morning the Imam came to circumcise me ; and as 
I made some objection, the Cadi of the quarter, an 
honest man, proposed to impale me. I saved my prepuce 
and my backside with a thousand sequins and fled to 
Persia immediately, resolved never more to attend a 
Greek or a Latin mass in Turkey and never to cry Allah, 
Illah, Allah in a tender rendezvous. 

On reaching Ispahan, I was asked if I were for the 
black sheep or the white sheep. I replied that it was 
a matter of indifference to me, so long as they were 
tender. You must know that the Persians were still 
divided by the factions of *' The white sheep " and ** The 
black sheep." They thought I was making fun of 
both parties, so that at the very gates of the town I 
found myself involved in violent quarrel ; it cost me 
another large sum of sequins to get rid of the sheep. 

I pushed on as far as China with an interpreter who 
assured me it was a country where people lived freely 


and happily. The Tartars had become masters of it, 
after having wasted it with fire and blood ; and the 
reverend Jesuit fathers on the one hand, like the reverend 
Dominican fathers on the other, said they were winning 
souls for God without anyone else knowing who they 
were. There was a quarrel among them about the 
method of bowing. The Jesuits wanted the Chinese 
to salute their fathers and mothers in the manner of 
China, and the Dominicans wanted them to salute in the 
manner of Rome. It happened that the Jesuits took 
me for a Dominican. His Tartar Majesty was informed 
that I was one of the Pope's spies. The supreme council 
told a first mandarin, who ordered a sergeant, who com- 
manded four police of the country to arrest me and to 
bind me with ceremony. After one hundred and forty 
genuflections I was taken before his Majesty. He asked 
me whether I were one of the Pope's spies and if it 
were true that this prince meant to come in person to 
the throne. I replied that the Pope was a priest aged 
seventy; that he lived four thousand leagues from his 
sacred Majesty of Tartar-China; that he possessed 
about two thousand soldiers who mounted guard under 
parasols ; that he never dethroned anybody and that 
his Majesty could sleep in peace. This was the least 
disastrous adventure of^my life. I was sent to Macao, 
whence I embarked for Europe. 

The ship I was in had to refit along the coasts of 
Golconda. I seized the time to visit the court of the 
great Aurangzeb, who was marvellously well-spoken 
of in the world ; at that time he was at Delhi. I had 
the consolation of seeing him on the day of the pompous 
ceremony when he received the celestial present sent 
him by the Cherif of Mecca. It was a broom which had 
been used to sweep out the holy house, the caaba, the 
beth allah. This broom is the symbol of the divine 
broom which sweeps away all the filth of the soul. 
Aurangzeb did not seem to need it ; he was the most 


pious man of all Hindustan. It is true he had cut the 
throat of one of his brothers and had poisoned his father ; 
twenty Rajahs and as many Omras had died in torture ; 
but that was nothing, and people talked only of his piety. 
He was compared to no one less than the sacred majesty 
of the most serene Emperor of Morocco, Muley Ismael, 
who cut off people's heads every Friday after prayers. 

I said nothing ; travelling had formed my mind and 
I felt that it did not fall to me to decide between two 
august sovereigns. A young Frenchman with whom 
I lodged failed, I must confess, in respect to the Emperors 
of the Indies and of Morocco. He took it into his head 
to say most indiscreetly that in Europe there were very 
pious sovereigns who governed their dominions well 
and even frequented churches, without killing their 
fathers and brothers and without cutting off the heads 
of their subjects. Our interpreter translated my young 
man's impious remark into Hindoo. Warned by what 
had happened in the past, I had my camels saddled at 
once and the Frenchman and I left. I learned after- 
wards that the officers of the great Aurangzeb came that 
night to arrest us, but only found the interpreter. He was 
executed in the public square and all the courtiers 
admitted without flattery that his death was richly 

I still had to see Africa in order to enjoy all the pleasures 
of our continent. And I did see it indeed. My ship 
was captured by negro pirates. Our captain complained 
loudly and asked them why they violated the law of 
nations in this manner. The negro captain replied : 

" Your nose is long, and ours is flat ; your hair is 
straight and our wool is curly; your skin is the colour 
of ashes, ours the colour of ebony; consequently by 
the sacred laws of nature we must always be enemies. 
You buy us in the fairs on the coast of Guinea, like 
beasts of labour, to make us work at occupations as 
painful as they are ridiculous. You beat us with cow- 


hide whips to make us dig in the mountains for a kind 
of yellow earth which in itself is good for nothing and is 
not worth nearly so much as a good Egyptian on;on ; 
so, when we meet you, and we happen to be the stronger, 
we make you labour in our fields or we cut oiF your nose 
and ears." 

There was nothing to be said in answer to so wise 
a speech. I went and worked in a field belonging to an 
old negress, in order to keep my ears and nose. I was 
ransomed at the end of a year. I had seen all that was 
beautiful, good and admirable in the world ; I resolved 
henceforth to see nothing but my household gods. 
I married in my own country ; I was made a cuckold ; 
and I saw that this was the most agreeable condition 
in life. 




SEVERAL persons worthy of belief saw Jeannot 
and Colin at school in the town of Issoire in 
Auvergne, a town famous throughout the universe 
for its college and its kettles. Jeannot was the 
son of a very well-known mule merchant. Colin owed 
his existence to an honest labourer of the district who 
cultivated the earth with the help of four mules, and who 
when he had paid the taille, the taillon, the aides and 
gabelles, one sou in the livre, the capitation tax and the 
twentieths, did not find himself wonderfully rich at the 
end of the year. 

Jeannot and Colin were very good-looking for 
Auvergnats ; they were very fond of each other ; they 
enjoyed little privities and familiarities together which 
people always remember with pleasure when they meet 
afterwards in the world. 

The period of their studies was just ending when a 
tailor brought Jeannot a velvet suit in three colours with 
a most tasteful waistcoat from Lyons ; the whole accom- 
panied by a letter to M. de la Jeannotifere. Colin 
admired the suit and was not jealous; but Jeannot 
assumed an air of superiority which distressed Colin. 
From that moment Jeannot ceased to study, looked at 
himself in the mirror, and despised everyone. Some 
time afterwards a footman came post, bringing a letter 
to M. le Marquis de la Jeannoti^re; it was an order 
from monsieur, his father, to bring monsieur, his son, 
to Paris. Jeannot got into the postchaise and extended 


his hand to Colin with a very noble smile of protection. 
Colin felt his nothingness and wept. Jeannot departed 
in all the pomp of his glory. 

Readers who like to be well informed must know 
that M. Jeannot the elder had very rapidly acquired 
immense property in business. You ask how these 
great fortunes are made .'' It is because a man is lucky. 
M. Jeannot was handsome ; so was his wife, who still 
retained some freshness. They went to Paris about 
a lawsuit which was ruining them, when Fortune, which 
lifts up and casts down men as it pleases, introduced 
them to the wife of a hospital organiser for the army, 
a man of great talent, who could boast that he had killed 
more soldiers in a year than the cannon had destroyed 
in ten. Jeannot pleased madame ; Jeannot's wife pleased 
monsieur. Jeannot soon had a share in the enterprise ; 
he took part in other affairs. As soon as one is in the 
stream, all one has to do is to go with it; an immense 
fortune can be made without difficulty. The beggars 
who watch you from the bank as you sail along with all 
sails set are round-eyed with astonishment ; they do not 
know how you can have arrived ; they envy you at 
hazard and write pamphlets against you which you do 
not read. This is what happened to the elder Jeannot, 
who soon became M. de la Jeannoti^re and, having 
purchased a marquisate at the end of six months, withdrew 
his son, M. le Marquis, from school, to launch him in 
the best society of Paris. 

Colin, always tender-hearted, wrote his old school- 
fellow a letter of compliment to congratulate him. The 
little marquis made no reply ; Colin was ill with grief. 

The father and mother first provided the young mar- 
quis with a tutor ; this tutor was a man of fashionable airs 
who knew nothing at all, and therefore could teach his 
pupil nothing. Monsieur wished his son to learn 
Latin ; madame did not wish it. They called in as 
arbiter an author who was at that time celebrated for his 

^^ great aim $fman (i?^ to ^cctd in ^^dncty 


agreeable writings. He was asked to dinner. The 
master of the house began by saying : 

" As you know Latin, sir, and are a man of the 
court . . ." 

** I know Latin, sir ! I don't know a word of it," 
replied the wit, ** and it has been an advantage to me ; 
obviously a man speaks his language better when he has 
not divided his attention between it and foreign languages. 
Look at all our ladies, their wit is more agreeable than 
the men's ; their letters have a hundred times more 
grace; their superiority over us is only due to the fact 
that they do not know Latin." 

** Well ! was I not right ? " said madame. ** I want 
my son to be a man of wit, I want him to succeed in 
society ; and you see that if he knew Latin he would 
be lost. I ask you, are comedies and operas played in 
Latin ? Are lawsuits tried in Latin ? Do we make love 
in Latin ? " 

Monsieur, dazzled by these reasons, passed judgment, 
and it was decided that the young marquis should not 
waste his time in knowing Cicero, Horace and Virgil. 
What then should he learn ? For he must learn some- 
thing ; could he not be taught a little geography ? 

" What will be the use of that ? " replied the tutor. 
** When M. le Marquis journeys to his estate, will not 
the postillions know the road ? They will certainly not 
lose him. There is no necessity for a quadrant in order 
to travel, and we go very comfortably from Paris to 
Auvergne without knowing the latitude we are in." 

** You are right," replied the father, ** but I have 
heard people speak of a noble science which is called, I 
think, astronomy." 

*' How contemptible 1 " replied the tutor. *' In this 
world do we conduct our lives by the stars ? And must 
M. le Marquis weary himself to death in calculating an 
eclipse when he can find it at the given time in an 
almanac, which in addition tells him the movable feasts, 


the quarter of the moon and the age of all the princesses 
in Europe ? " 

Madame entirely agreed with the tutor. The little 
marquis was delighted ; the father was uncertain. 

" Then what must my son be taught ? " he said. 

** To be amiable," replied the friend they were con- 
sulting, " and if he knows the way to please, he will know 
everything ; it is an art he can learn from madame, his 
mother, without either of them taking the least trouble." 

At these words madame embraced the gracious 
ignoramus and said : 

** It is plain, sir, that you are the most learned person 
in the world ; my son will owe his whole education to 
you ; yet I think it would not be a bad thing if he knew 
a little history." 

" Alas ! madame, what is the good of that ? " he 
replied. ** The history of the day alone is useful and 
agreeable. All ancient history, as one of our wits said, 
is simply a tissue of accepted fables ; and as for modern 
history, 'tis a chaos no one can disentangle. What does 
it matter to monsieur your son that Charlemagne insti- 
tuted the twelve peers of France and that his successor 
stammered ? " 

" Nothing could be better said," cried the tutor, 
*' the minds of children are stifled under masses of 
useless knowledge ; but in my opinion the most absurd 
of all sciences and that most likely to strangle every 
kind of genius, is geometry. The subject of that 
ridiculous science is surfaces, lines and points which do 
not exist in nature. They imagine a hundred thousand 
curves passing between a circle and a straight line touch- 
ing it, although in reality a straw could not pass. 
Positively, geometry is nothing but a foolish jest." 

Monsieur and madame did not altogether understand 
what the tutor meant; but they were entirely of his 

" A lord like M. le Marquis," he continued, " should 


not waste his brains in these vain studies. Should he 
one day need a sublime geometer to draw the plan of 
his estate, he can have the acreage worked out by paying 
for it. If he wishes to discover the antiquity of his title, 
which goes back to the most distant times, he will send 
for a Benedictine. And so with every art. A young 
lord happily born is neither a painter, nor a musician, 
nor an architect, nor a sculptor; but he causes all 
these arts to flourish by his munificent encouragement of 
them. It is certainly better to protect them than to prac- 
tise them ; it is enough that M. le Marquis should 
possess taste ; it is for artists to work for him ; and that 
IS why people are so right when they say that persons of 
quality (I mean those who are very rich) know everything 
without having learnt anything, because in the long run 
they can indeed judge everything they order and pay for.'* 
The amiable ignoramus then spoke and said : 
** You have very well observed, madame, that the 
great aim of man is to succeed in society. Honestly 
now, is that success obtained through the sciences ? 
Did anyone ever think of discussing geometry in good 
society ? Is a man of quality ever asked what star rises 
to-day with the sun ? Does anyone at supper ever ask 
whether Clodicn the Hairy passed the Rhine ? " 

** Of course not," cried the Marquise de la Jeannotifere, 
whose charms had sometimes initiated her into good 
society, " and monsieur my son must not quench his 
genius in the study of all this nonsense ; but what shall 
we teach him then ? for it is good that a young lord 
should shine on the proper occasion, as my husband says. 
I remember I heard an abb6 say that the most agreeable 
of all sciences was a thing whose name I have forgotten, 
but which begins with an H." 

'* With an H, madame, was it not Horticulture ? " 
** No, it was not Horticulture he spoke of; it began, 
I tell you, with an H and ended with a ry." 

** Ah ! I understand, madame, 'tis Heraldry ; that 


indeed is a very profound science, but it is no longer 
fashionable since people have given up having their 
arms painted on their carriage doors; it was the most 
useful thing imaginable in a really civilised state. But 
this study would be infinite ; to-day every barber has his 
coat of arms; and you know that everything which 
becomes common is little welcomed." 

Finally, after having weighed the strength and weak- 
ness of all sciences, they decided that M. le Marquis 
should learn to dance. Nature, which accomplishes 
everything, had bestowed upon him a talent which soon 
developed with prodigious success, and that was singing 
comic songs agreeably. The graces of youth, added to 
this superior gift, caused him to be looked upon as a 
young man of the greatest promise. He was beloved 
by the women ; and having his head filled with songs, 
he wrote songs for his mistresses. He pillaged '* Bacchus 
and Love " for one song, " Night and Day " for another, 
** Charms and Alarms," for a third ; but, since his verses 
were always some feet longer or shorter than they ought 
to have been, he had them corrected at the rate of twenty 
guineas a song ; and he was placed in the Literary Year 
Book alongside Lafare, Chaulieu, Hamilton, Sarrasin, 
and Voiture. 

Madame la Marquise then believed herself to be the 
mother of a wit and gave suppers to the wits of Paris. 
The young man's head was soon turned ; he acquired the 
art of talking without knowing what he meant and 
perfected himself in the habit of being good for nothing. 
When his father saw he was so eloquent, he regretted 
keenly that he had not been taught Latin, for then an 
important judicial post could have been bought for him. 
The mother, whose sentiments were more noble, under- 
took to solicit a regiment for her son ; and meanwhile 
he made love. Love is sometimes more expensive than 
a regiment. He spent a great deal, while his parents 
exhausted their resources by living like great lords. 


A young widow of quality, their neighbour, who 
possessed only a middling fortune, was good enough to 
make up her mind to render secure the great possessions 
of M. and Mme. Jeannoti^re by appropriating them to 
herself and by marrying the young marquis. She drew 
him to her house, allowed him to fall in love with her, let 
him see that she was not indifferent to him, led him on 
by degrees, enchanted him, subjugated him without 
difficulty. Sometimes she praised him, sometimes ad- 
vised him ; she became the best friend of his father and 
mother. An old woman in the neighbourhood proposed 
the marriage ; the parents, dazzled by the splendour of 
this alliance, accepted the proposal with joy. They gave 
their only son to their intimate friend. The young 
marquis was about to marry a woman whom he adored 
and by whom he was beloved ; the friends of the house 
congratulated him; the marriage articles were being 
drawn up, and they were at work upon the wedding 
clothes and the epithalamium. 

One morning he was at the knees of the charming 
wife he was to receive from love, esteem ahd friend- 
ship ; in a tender and animated conversation they were 
enjoying the first fruits of their happiness ; they were 
making arrangements to le^ a delicious life when a 
footman belonging to madame his mother arrived in 

** Here is news 1 " he said. *' The bailiffs are taking 
the furniture from monsieur and madame's house; 
everything is seized by the creditors ; arrest is talked 
of and I am going to do the best I can to be paid my 

" Let me go and see," said the marquis, ** what this is, 
what this adventure may be." 

" Yes," said the widow, ** go and punish the scoun- 
drels, go quickly." 

He rushed off and went to the house ; his father was 
already in prison ; all the servants had fled in different 


directions, carrying off whatever they could. His mother 
was alone, without help, without consolation, drowned 
in her tears ; she had nothing left but the memory of 
her fortune, of her beauty, of her errors and of her mad 

After the son had wept with his mother for a long 
time, he said at last : 

" Let us not despair ; the young widow loves me 
madly ; she is more generous than rich ; I will answer 
for her ; I will fly to her and bring her back to you." 

He returned to his mistress and found her in private 
conversation with a most amiable young officer, 

'* What 1 Is it you, M. de la Jeannotiere ? What 
are you doing here .'' Is a mother to be abandoned in 
this way ? Go to the poor woman and tell her I still 
wish her well ; I need a waiting-woman and will give 
her the preference." 

** Young man," said the officer, ** you seem well 
set-up ; if you like to enter my company, I will give you 
a good engagement." 

The marquis was stupefied, his heart was full of rage, 
and he went to look for his old tutor to pour out his griefs 
on his heart and to ask for advice. The advice was to 
become a children's tutor like himself. 

'* Alas 1 I know nothing, you taught me nothing, 
and you are the first cause of my misfortune." 

He sobbed as he said this. 

*' Write novels," said a wit who was there. ** It is 
an excellent resource in Paris." 

The young man, in more despair than ever, ran to 
his mother's confessor, a greatly esteemed Theatine, 
who took charge of the consciences of only the most 
important women. As soon as he saw him, he rushed 
towards him. 

*' Heavens 1 Monsieur le Marquis, where is your 
carriage ? How is the respectable Madame la Marquise, 
your mother .? " 


The poor wretch related his family disaster. As he 
explained it, the Theatine became graver, more indifferent, 
more imposing. 

** My son, this is how God willed you should be ; 
riches serve only to corrupt the heart; and so God 
has done your mother the grace to reduce her to 
beggary ? " 

•* Yes, sir." 

** So much the better, she is certain of her salvation.*' 

" But, father, meanwhile is there no way of obtaining 
some help in this world ? " 

" Farewell, my son ; a lady of the court is waiting 
for me.** 

The marquis was ready to swoon ; he was treated in 
nearly the same fashion by all his friends and learned 
more about the world in half a day than in all his preced- 
ing life. As he was plunged in the depth of despair 
he saw an old-fashioned chaise, a sort of covered cart, 
with leather curtains, followed by four enormous laden 
waggons. In the chaise was a young man coarsely 
dressed; his face was round and fresh and breathed 
gentleness and gaiety. His little dark wife, who was 
rustically agreeable, was jolted beside him. The carriage 
did not run as easily as a coxcomb's chariot ; the traveller 
had plenty of time to observe the motionless marquis, 
lost in his grief. 

" Heavens ! ** he cried, *' I think that is Jeannot." 

At this name the marquis raised his eyes and the chaise 

" It is Jeannot himself, it is Jeannot ! " 

The plump little man took one leap and rushed to 
embrace his old school-fellow. Jeannot recognised 
Colin ; and his face was covered with shame and tears. 

" You abandoned me," said Colin, " but though you 
are a great lord, I shall always love you." 

Touched and confused, Jeannot told him with sobs a 
part of his story. 


" Come to the inn where I am lodging and tell mc 
the rest," said Colin ; " kiss my little wife and let us 
go and dine together." 

All three went off on foot followed by the baggage. 

" What is all this collection ? Does it belong to you .'' '* 

** Yes, it belongs to me and my wife. We have just 
come up from the country ; I am at the head of a good 
manufactory of iron and copper. I have married the 
daughter of a rich trader in utensils necessary to great and 
small alike ; we work very hard ; God has blessed us ; 
we have not changed our condition, we are happy, we 
will help our friend Jeannot. Do not be a marquis any 
longer ; all the grandeurs are not worth a true friend. 
You will come back to the country with me. I will 
teach you the trade, it is not very difficult ; I will give 
you a share, and we will live merrily in the corner of the 
earth where we were born." 

Jeannot in bewilderment felt torn between grief and 
joy, tenderness and shame ; he said to himself : All my 
gay friends have betrayed me and Colin, whom I despised, 
alone comes to my aid. What a lesson ! 

Colin's goodness of soul developed in Jeannot's heart 
the germ of good character which had not yet been stifled 
by the world. He felt he could not abandon his father 
and his mother. 

" We will take care of your mother," said Colin, 
** and as to the good man your father who is in prison, 
I understand something of business. His creditors, 
when they see he has nothing, will take what they can 
get ; I will look after everything." 

Colin laboured so successfully that he released the 
father from prison. Jeannot returned to his province 
with his parents, who took up their old trade again. He 
married Colin's sister and, as she was of the same humour 
as her brother, she made him very happy. And Jeannot 
the father, and Jeannot the mother, and Jeannot the son 
saw that happiness does not dwell in vanity. 





AH ! Fate governs irremissibly everything in 
this world. I judge, as is natural, from my 
own experience. 
Lord Chesterfield, who was very fond of me, 
had promised to be of help to me. A good living in his 
nomination fell vacant. I hastened up from the depths 
of the country to London ; I presented myself before 
his lordship ; I reminded him of his promises ; he shook 
me warmly by the hand and said that indeed I did look 
ill. I replied that my greatest illness was poverty. He 
said he desired to cure me, and immediately gave me a 
letter for Mr. Sidrac, near the Guildhall. 

I had no doubt that Mr. Sidrac was the person to 
hasten the nomination to my living. I hastened to 
his house. Mr. Sidrac, who was his lordship's surgeon, 
at once began to examine me and assured me that if I 
had the stone, he would cut me very successfully. 

You must know that his lordship had heard I was 
suffering great pain in the bladder, and with his usual 
generosity had intended I should be cut at his expense. 
He had gone deaf, like his brother, and I had not been 
informed of it. 

While I was wasting time in defending my bladder 
against Mr. Sidrac, who desired to cut me at all costs, 
one of the fifty-two competitors who wanted the same 
living reached his lordship, asked for my vicarage, and 
obtained it. 

I was in love with Miss Fidler, whom I was to marry 


as soon as I became a vicar ; my rival had my post and 
my mistress. 

The earl, hearing of my disaster and his mistake, 
promised to set everything right ; but he died two days 

Mr. Sidrac pointed out to me, as clearly as daylight, 
that my good patron could not live a minute longer 
owing to the constitution of his organs, and proved to 
me that his deafness only came from the extreme dryness 
of the cord and drum of his ear. He even offered to 
harden my two ears with spirits of wine, and to make 
me deafer than any peer of the realm. 

I realised that Mr. Sidrac was a very learned man. 
He inspired me with a taste for the science of Nature. 
Moreover, I saw that he was a charitable man who would 
cut me for nothing if necessary, and who would aid me in 
every accident which might happen to me towards the 
neck of my bladder. 

So I began to study Nature under his direction, to 
console myself for the loss of my vicarage and my 


AFTER many observations of Nature, made with 
my five senses, telescopes and microscopes, I 
said to Mr. Sidrac one day : 
** They make fun of us ; there is no such thing 
as Nature, everything is art; it is by an admirable art 
that all the planets dance regularly around the sun, 
while the sun turns round upon himself. Obviously 
some one as learned as the Royal Society of London 
must have arranged things in such a way that the square 
of the revolutions of each planet is always proportionate 
to the cube root of their distance from their centre ; 
and a man must be a sorcerer to guess it. 

** The ebb and flow of our Thames seem to me the 
constant result of an art not less profound and not less 
difficult to understand. 

" Animals, vegetables, minerals, all seem to me 
arranged with weight, measure, number and movement ; 
everything is a spring, a lever, a pulley, a hydraulic 
machine, a chemical laboratory, from the blade of grass 
to the oak, from the flea to man, from a grain of sand to 
our clouds, 

*' Certainly there is nothing but art, and Nature is a 

" You are right,** replied Mr. Sidrac, " but you are 
not the first in the field ; that has already been said by 
a dreamer on the other side of the Channel,^ but nobody 
has paid any attention to him." 

** What astonishes me and pleases me most of all is 
that, by means of this incomprehensible art, two machines 
always produce a third ; and I am very sorry not to have 

1 Voltaire. 


made one with Miss Fidler ; but I see it was arranged 
from all eternity that Miss Fidler should make use of 
another machine than mine.** 

** What you say,*' replied Mr. Sidrac, ** has been 
said before and said better; which is a probability 
that you think correctly. Yes, it is most amusing that 
two beings should produce a third ; but it is not true of 
all beings ; two roses do not produce a third rose by 
kissing each other ; two stones or two metals do not 
produce a third ; and yet a metal and a stone are things 
which all human industry could not make. The great, 
the beautiful, continuous miracle is that a boy and a 
girl should make a child together, that a cock nightin- 
gale should make a little nightingale with his hen night- 
ingale, and not with a lark. We ought to spend half 
our lives in imitating them, and the other half in blessing 
him who invented this method. In generation there are 
a thousand vastly curious secrets. Newton says that 
Nature is everywhere like herself ; Natura est ubique sibi 
consona. This is false in love ; fish, reptiles and birds 
do not make love as we do ; there is an infinite variety. 
The making of acting and sapient beings delights me. 
Vegetables have their value also. I am always amazed 
that a grain of wheat cast on to the ground should produce 
several others.** 

" Ah ! *' said I, like the fool I then was, " that is 
because the wheat must die to be born again, as they say 
in the schools." ^ 

Mr. Sidrac laughed very circumspectly and replied : 

" That was true in the time of the schools, but the 
meanest labourer to-day knows that the thing is absurd." 

** Ah ! Mr. Sidrac, I beg your pardon ; but I have 
been a theologian and a man cannot shake off his old 
habits immediately." 

1 St. Paul and St. John. 


SOME time after these conversations between poor 
parson Goodman and the excellent anatomist 
Sidrac, the surgeon met him in St. James's Park, 
pensive, preoccupied, with a more embarrassed 
look than • a mathematician who has just made a bad 
mistake in calculation. 

*• What is the matter with you ? " said Sidrac. ** Have 
you a pain in your bladder or your colon ? " 

** No," said Goodman, *' but in the gall-bladder. 
I have just seen a carriage go by containing the Bishop 
of Gloucester,^ who is an insolent and whiffling pedant ; 
I was on foot and it irritated me. I remembered that 
if I wanted to have a bishopric in this kingdom, *tis 
ten thousand to one I should not obtain it, since there 
are ten thousand parsons in England. Since the death 
of Lord Chesterfield (who was deaf) I have had no 
patron. Let us suppose that the ten thousand Anglican 
parsons each have two patrons ; in that event it is twenty 
thousand to one I shall not be a bishop. That is annoying 
when one thinks of it. 

" I remembered that long ago it was suggested that 
I should go to India as a cabin-boy; I was assured I 
should make a great fortune, but I did not feel I was 
the kind of person to become an admiral. And, after 
having considered all professions, I have remained a 
parson without being good for anything." 

** Cease to be a priest," said Sidrac, " and make 
yourself a philosopher. It is an occupation which 
neither exacts nor gives wealth. What is your income ? " 

** I have only thirty guineas a year, and after the 
death of my old aunt, I shall have fifty." 

* Warburton. 


** My dear Goodman, that is enough to live in free- 
dom and to think. Thirty guineas are six hundred 
and thirty shillings ; that makes nearly two shillings 
a day. Philips ^ only wanted one. With that amount 
of certain income a man can say everything he thinks 
about the East India Company, Parliament, the Colonies, 
the King, being in general, man and God ; all of which 
is a great amusement. Come and dine with me, which 
will save you money; we will talk, and your thinking 
faculty will have the pleasure of communicating with 
mine by means of speech ; a marvellous thing which men 
do not sufficiently admire." 

1 John Philips, author of 7he SpUndid Shilling. 


Conversation between Dr. Goodman and Sidrac the Anatomist 
concerning the Soul and Other Matters 

y^OODMAN : But, my dear Sidrac, why do you 
I Y always speak of my thinking faculty ? Why not 
^^ just say my soul ? It would be done more 
quickly and I should understand you just as well. 

Sidrac : But I should not understand myself. I 
feel, I know that God has given me the^faculty of think- 
ing and speaking ; but I neither feel nor know whether 
he had given me an entity which is called a soul. 

Goodman : Really, when I think about it, I perceive 
I know nothing more about it and that I have long 
been rash enough to think I did know. I have noticed 
that the Eastern nations call the soul by a name which 
means life. Following their example, the Romans 
first meant the life of the animal by the word anima. 
Among the Greeks they spoke of the respiration of the 
soul. This respiration is a breath. The Latins trans- 
lated the word breath by spiritus ; whence comes the 
word equivalent to ** spirit " among nearly all modern 
nations. Since nobody has ever seen this breath, this 
spirit, it has been made an entity which no one can see 
or touch. It has been said to reside in our body without 
occupying any place there, to move our organs without 
touching them. What has not been said .? It seems to 
me that all our talk is founded on ambiguities. I see the 
wise Locke felt that these ambiguities in all languages 
had plunged human reason into a chaos. He has no 
chapter on the soul in the only book of reasonable meta- 
physics ever written. And if he chances to use the word 



in certain passages, with him it only means our intelli- 
gence. Indeed everyone feels he has an intelligence, 
that he receives ideas, that he associates and dissociates 
them ; but nobody feels he has within him another entity 
which gives him movement, sensations and thoughts. 
It is ridiculous to use words we do not understand and 
to admit entities of which we cannot have the slightest 

Sidrac : We are agreed then about a matter which 
has been the subject of dispute for so many centuries. 

Goodman : And I am surprised that we are in agree- 

Sidrac : It is not surprising, we are honestly searching 
for the truth. If we were on the benches of the schools, 
we should argue like the characters of Rabelais. If we 
lived in the ages of terrible darkness which so long 
enveloped England, one of us would perhaps have the 
other burned. We live in an age of reason ; we easily 
find what seems to us to be the truth and we dare to 
express it. 

Goodman : Yes, but I am afraid this truth is a very paltry 
affair. In mathematics we have achieved prodigies which 
would astonish Apollonius and Archimedes, and would 
make them our pupils ; but what have we discovered 
in metaphysics ? Our own ignorance. 

Sidrac : And is that nothing ? You admit that the 
great Being has given you the faculty of feeling and 
thinking, as he has given your feet the faculty of walking, 
your hands the power of doing a thousand things, your 
entrails the power of digesting, your heart the power of 
urging your blood into your arteries. We hold every- 
thing from him ; we could not give ourselves anything, 
and we shall always be ignorant of the manner in which 
the Master of the universe makes use of to guide us. 
For my part, I give him thanks for having taught me 
that I know nothing of first principles. Men have 
always inquired how the soul acts upon the body. They 


ought first of all to have found out whether we have one. 
Either God has given us this present or he has communi- 
cated something which is its equivalent to us. However 
he went about it, we are under his hand. He is our 
master, that is all I know. 

Goodman : But tell me at least what you suspect. You 
have dissected brains, you have seen embryos and foetuses ; 
have you discovered any sign of the soul in them ? 

Sidrac : Not the least, and I have never been able to 
understand how an immortal, immaterial entity spent 
nine months uselessly hidden in an evil-smelling mem- 
brane between urine and excrement. It is difficult for 
me to conceive that this pretended simple soul existed 
before the formation of its body. For, if it were not a 
human soul, what use could it have been during the ages ? 
And then how can we imagine a simple entity, a meta- 
physical entity, which waits during eternity the moment 
to animate matter for a few minutes ? What becomes of 
this unknown entity, if the foetus it should animate dies 
in the belly of its mother ? It seemed still more ridiculous 
to me that God should create a soul at the moment a man 
lies with a woman. It seems blasphemous that God 
should await the consummation of an adultery, of an 
incest, to reward these turpitudes by creating souls in 
their favour. It is still worse when I am told that 
God draws immortal souls from nothingness to make 
them suffer incredible tortures for eternity. What! 
Burn simple entities, entities which have nothing burn- 
able \ How should we go about burning the sound of 
a voice, a wind which has passed ? Even then, this sound 
and this wind were material during the brief moment 
of their passage ; but a pure spirit, a thought, a doubt ? 
I am all at sea. Whichever way I turn, to find nothing 
but obscurity, contradiction, impossibility, ridiculous- 
ness, dreams, extravagance, fables, absurdity, stupidity, 

But I am quite easy when I say ; God is the Master. 


He who causes the innumerable stars to gravitate towards 
each other, he who made the light, is certainly powerful 
enough to give us feelings and ideas without our needing 
a small, foreign, invisible atom called soul. God has 
certainly given feeling, memory and industry to all 
animals. He has given them life and it is as noble to 
give life as to give a soul. It is generally agreed that 
animals live ; it is proved that they have feeling, since they 
have organs of feeling. And if they have all that without 
having a soul, why must we wish to have one at all 
costs .'' 

Goodman : Perhaps from vanity. I am convinced 
that if a peacock could speak, he would boast of having 
a soul and he would say his soul is in his tail. I am 
very much inclined to suspect with you that God made 
us to eat, to drink, to walk, to sleep, to feel, to think, 
to be full of passions, pride and misery, without telling 
us one word of his secret. We do not know any more 
about this topic than the peacock I speak of; and he 
who said that we are born, live and die without knowing 
how, expressed a great truth. 

He who calls us the puppets of Providence seems to 
me to have well defined us ; since after all, for us to exist, 
there needs must be an infinity of movements. We did 
not make the movement ; we did not establish its laws. 
There is someone who, having made the light, makes it 
move from the sun to our eyes and reach us in seven 
minutes. It is only through movement that my five 
senses are stirred ; it is only through my five senses that I 
have ideas ; therefore it is the Author of movement who 
gives me ideas. And when he tells me how he gives them 
to me, I shall render him very humble thanks. Already 
I give him great thanks for having allowed me to con- 
template for a few years the magnificent spectacle of this 
world, as Epictetus says. It is true he might make me 
happier and let me have a good living and my mistress. 
Miss Fidler ; but after all, even as I am, with my income 


of six hundred and thirty shillings, I am still greatly 
indebted to him. 

Sidrac : You say that God might have given you a 
good living and that he could make you happier than 
you are. There are some people who would not allow 
you to make such an assertion. Do you not remember 
that you yourself complained of Fate ? A man who 
wished to be a parson must not contradict himself. Do 
you not see that, if you had had the parsonage and the 
woman you asked for, it would have been you who made 
Miss Fidler's child and not your rival ? The child she 
would have had might have been a cabin-boy, have become 
an admiral, have won a naval battle at the mouth of the 
Ganges, and completed the dethronement of the Great 
Mogul. That alone would have changed the constitu- 
tion of the universe. A world entirely different to ours 
would have been needed in order that your competitor 
should not have the living, should not marry Miss 
Fidler, and that you should not have been reduced to 
six hundred and thirty shillings while expecting the 
death of your aunt. Everything is linked up : and 
God will not break the eternal chain for the sake of 
my friend Goodman. 

Goodman : I did not expect this line of reasoning when 
I spoke of Fate; but after all, if this is so, God is as 
much a slave as I am ? 

Sidrac : He is the slave of his will, of his wisdom, of 
the laws he made himself, of his necessary nature. He 
cannot infringe them, because he cannot be weak, in- 
constant, and flighty as we are, and the necessarily Eternal 
Being cannot be a weathercock. 

Goodman : Mr. Sidrac, that leads straight to irreligion ; 
for if God can change nothing in the aflFairs or this 
world, what is the use of singing his praises and addressing 
prayers to him ? 

Sidrac : And who told you to pray God and praise 
him ? Much he cares for your praise and petitions ! 


We praise a man because we think him vain ; we pray 
him when we think him weak and hope to make him 
change his opinion. Let us do our duty to God, adore 
him, act justly ; that is true praise and true prayer. 

Goodman : Mr. Sidrac, we have covered a lot of ground ; 
for, without counting Miss Fidler, we have inquired 
whether we have a soul, whether there is a God, whether 
he can change, whether we are destined to two lives, 
whether . . . these are profound studies and perhaps I 
should never have thought of them if I had been a parson. 
I must go deeper into these necessary and sublime matters, 
since I have nothing else to do. 

Sidrac : Well, Dr. Grou is coming to dine with me 
to-morrow ; he is a very well-informed doctor ; he went 
round the world with Banks and Solander. He must 
certainly understand God and the soul, the true and the 
false, the just and the unjust, far better than those who 
have never left Covent Garden. Moreover, Dr. Grou 
saw almost the whole of Europe in his youth ; he wit- 
nessed five or six revolutions in Russia ; he frequented 
the pasha Comte de Bonneval, who, as you know, became 
a complete Mohammedan at Constantinople. He was 
intimate with the Papist priest MacCarthy, the Irishman, 
who had his prepuce cut off in honour of Mohammed, and 
with our Scotch Presbyterian, Ramsay, who did the same, 
and afterwards served in Russia and was killed in a battle 
against the Swedes in Finland. He has conversed with 
the reverend Father Malagrida, who has since been 
burned at Lisbon, because the Holy Virgin revealed to 
him everything she did when she was in the womb of 
her mother. Saint Anne. You can see that a man like 
Dr. Grou, who has seen so much, must be the greatest 
metaphysician in the world. To-morrow then, at my 
house for dinner. 

Goodman : And the day after to-morrow, also, my 
dear Sidrac, for more than one dinner is needed to grow 
well informed. 


NEXT day the three thinkers dined together ; 
and as they became a little gayer towards the 
end of the meal, according to the custom of 
philosophers at dinner, they amused them- 
selves by talking of all the miseries, all the follies, all the 
horrors which afflict the animal race from Australia to the 
Arctic Pole, and from Lima to Macao. This diversity of 
abominations is nevertheless very amusing. It is a 
pleasure unknown to stay-at-home burgesses and parish 
curates, who know nothing beyond their own church spire 
and who think that all the rest of the universe is like 
Exchange Alley in London, or like the Rue de la 
Huchette at Paris. 

*' I have noticed," said Dr. Grou, " that in spite of the 
infinite variety of this globe, all the men I have seen, 
whether blacks with woolly hair, blacks with straight 
hair, the browns, the reds, the swarthy who are called 
whites, all have alike two legs, two eyes, and a head on 
their shoulders, despite St. Augustine, who asserts in his 
thirty-seventh sermon that he had seen acephalous men, 
that is headless men, monoculous men with only one eye 
and monopeds who have only one leg. As to anthro- 
pophagi, I admit there are swarms of them and that 
everyone was once like them. 

" I have often been asked if the inhabitants of the 
immense country called New Zealand, who are to-day 
the most barbarous of all barbarians, were baptised. 
I always reply that I do not know, but that it might be 
so ; that the Jews, who were more barbarous than they, 
had two baptisms instead of one, the baptism of justice 
and the baptism of domicile." 


*• I know them well," said Mr. Goodman, ** and I 
have had long disputes with those who think we invented 
baptism. No, gentlemen, we have invented nothing; 
we have only introduced contractions. But pray tell 
me. Dr. Grou, among the eighty or hundred religions 
you saw in your travels, which seemed the most pleasant, 
that of the New Zealanders or that of the Hottentots ? " 

Dr. Grou : That of tjie Island of Otaiti, without any 
doubt. I have travelled through the two hemispheres; 
I never saw anything like Otaiti and its religious queen. 
It is in Otaiti that Nature dwells. Elsewhere I saw 
nothing but masks ; I saw only scoundrels deceiving 
fools, charlatans cheating others of their money to obtain 
authority, and cheating authority to have money with 
impunity ; who sell you spiders' webs in order to eat your 
partridges ; who sell you riches and pleasures when there 
is none, so that you will turn the spit while they exist. 

By Heaven ! It is not like that in the Island of Aiti, 
or of Otaiti. The island is much more civilised than 
New Zealand and the country of the Kafirs, and I dare 
to say than our own England, because Nature has granted 
it a more fertile soil ; she has given it the bread-fruit 
tree, a present as useful as it is wonderful, which she has 
only bestowed upon a few islands of the Southern Sea. 
Moreover, Otaiti possesses numerous edible birds, 
vegetables and fruits. In such a country it is not neces- 
sary to eat one's neighbour ; but there is a more natural, 
gentler, more universal necessity which the religion of 
Otaiti commands shall be satisfied in public. It is 
certainly the most respectable of all religious ceremonies; 
I have been an eye-witness of it, as well as the whole 
crew of our ship. These are not missionaries* fables, 
such as are to be found sometimes in the Edifying and 
Curious Letters of the Reverend Jesuit Fathers. Dr. John 
Hawkesworth is now completing the publication of our 
discoveries in the southern hemisphere. I have con- 
stantly accompanied that worthy young man. Banks, 


who has devoted his time and money to the observation 
of Nature, in the regions of the Antarctic Pole, while 
Dawkins and Wood returned from the ruins of Palmyra 
and Baalbek where they had excavated the most ancient 
monuments of the arts, and Hamilton taught the amazed 
Neapolitans the natural history of their Mount Vesuvius. 
With Banks, Solander, Cook and a hundred others, I have 
seen what I am about to tell you. 

The Princess Obeira, Queen of the Island of Otaiti . . . 

At that moment the coffee was brought, and as soon 
as it was taken. Dr. Grou went on with his story as 
follows : 


* ^ ■ ^HE Princess Obeira," I say, " after having 
I heaped us with presents with a politeness 
I worthy of a queen of England, was curious 
JL. to be present one morning at our Anglican 
service. We celebrated it as pompously as we could. 
In the afternoon she invited us to hers ; it was on the 
14th May 1769. We found her surrounded by about 
one thousand persons of both sexes arranged in a semi- 
circle and respectfully silent. A very pretty girl, simply 
dressed in light clothes, was lying on a platform which 
served as an altar. Queen Obeira ordered a fine young 
man of about twenty to make the sacrifice. He repeated 
a sort of prayer and got on to the altar. The two sacrificers 
were half naked. The Queen, with a majestic air, showed 
the young victim the most convenient method of con- 
summating the sacrifice. All the Otaitians were so 
attentive and so respectful that not one of our sailors 
dared to . trouble the ceremony by an indecent laugh. 
That is what I have seen, I tell you ; that is what our 
whole crew saw ; it is for you to make deductions." 

" This sacred festival does not surprise me," said 
Dr. Goodman. " I am convinced that this is the first 
festival men have ever celebrated, and I do not see why 
we should not pray God when we are about to make a 
being in his image, as we pray to him before the meals 
which sustain our bodies. To labour to bring to life a 
reasonable creature is the most noble and holy action. 
Thus thought the early Indians, who revered the Lingam, 
the symbol of generation ; the ancient Egyptians who 
carried the phallus in procession ; the Greeks who erected 
temples to Priapus. If one may quote the miserable little 


Jewish nation, the clumsy imitator of all its neighbours, 
it is said in its books that this nation adored Priapus 
and that the queen-mother of the Jewish King Asa was 
the high priestess. 

" However this may be, it is very probable that no 
race ever established or could establish a cult from 
libertinism. Debauchery sometimes slips in through 
the lapse of time ; but the institution itself is always 
innocent and pure. Our earliest love-feasts, where 
boys and girls kissed each other innocently on the 
mouth, did not generate into rendezvous and infidel- 
ities until much later ; and would to God I might sacrifice 
with Miss Fidler under Queen Obeira in all honour! 
It would assuredly be the finest day and the best action 
of my life." 

Mr. Sidrac, who had hitherto kept silence because 
Goodman and Grou had been talking, at last abandoned 
his reserve and said : 

** What I have just heard ravishes me with admiration. 
Queen Obeira seems to me the greatest queen in the 
southern hemisphere ; I dare not say of both hemispheres; 
but among so much fame and happiness, there is one 
thing which makes me tremble and which Mr. Goodman 
mentioned without your replying. Is it true, Dr. Grou, 
that Captain Wallace, who anchored oflF that fortunate 
Island before you, brought to it the two most terrible 
scourges of the whole earth, the two poxes .? " 

*• Alas 1 " replied Dr. Grou, " the French accuse us 
and we accuse the French. Mr. Bougainville says that 
the accursed English gave the pox to Queen Obeira; 
and Mr. -Cook asserts that the Queen obtained it from Mr. 
Bougainville himself. However this may be, the pox 
is like the fine arts, nobody knows who invented them, 
but eventually they ran through Europe, Asia, Africa 
and America." 

** I have been a surgeon for a long time," said Sidrac, 
" and I confess I owe the greater part of my fortune 


to this pox ; yet I do not detest it any the less. Mrs. 
Sidrac communicated it to me on the first night of her 
wedding ; and, as she is an excessively delicate woman in 
all matters touching her honour, she published in all the 
London newspapers the statement that she was indeed 
attacked by an infamous disease but that she had con- 
tracted it in her mother's womb and that it was an old 
family habit. 

*' What was * Nature * thinking of when she poured 
this poison in the very source of life ? It has been said, 
and I repeat it, that this is the most enormous and detest- 
able of all contradictions. What ! Man, they say, 
was made in God's image. Finxit in effigiem moderantum 
cuncta deorum, and it is in the spermatic vessels of this 
image that pain, infection and death are placed I What 
becomes of Lord Rochester's fine verse : 

* Love, in a land of infidels. 
Would lead to God: " 

" Alas 1 " said the excellent Goodman, ** perhaps I 
have to thank Providence that I did not marry my dear 
Miss Fidler ; for who knows what might have happened ? 
We are never sure of anything in this world. In any 
case, Mr. Sidrac, you have promised me your help in 
everything concerning my bladder." 

" I am entirely at your service," replied Sidrac, ** but 
you must get rid of these gloomy thoughts." 

Goodman, speaking in this way, seemed to foresee his 


AS Mr. Sidrac spoke these wise words a servant 
came in to inform Mr. Goodman that the late 
Lord Chesterfield's steward was at the door in 
his carriage and wished to speak to him about a 
very urgent affair. Goodman ran down to receive the 
information and the steward invited him into the carriage 
and said : 

** No doubt you know, sir, what happened to Mr. 
Sidrac on their wedding-night ? " 

" Yes, sir, he told me the story of that little adventure 
just now." 

** Well, the same thing occurred to the fair Miss 
Fidler and her parson husband. The morning after 
they fought ; the day after that they separated and the 
parson has been deprived of his living. I am in love 
with Miss Fidler, I know that she loves you, but she does 
not hate me. I can rise superior to the little accident 
which was the cause of her divorce ; I am in love and 
fearless. Give up Miss Fidler to me and I will see that 
you get the living, which is worth over a hundred and 
fifty guineas a year. You have only ten minutes to make 
up your mind." 

** This is a delicate proposition, sir ; I must consult 
my philosophers Sidrac and Grou ; I shall return to you 

He ran back to his two advisers. 

" I see," he said, ** that the aflFairs of this world are not 
decided by digestion alone, and that love, ambition and 
money play a large part." 

He told them how he was situated, and begged them 
to decide at once. They both decided that with an 


income of a hundred and fifty guineas he could have all 
the girls in his parish and Miss Fidler as well. 

Groodman felt the wisdc m of this decision ; he had 
the parsonage, he had Miss Fidler in secret, which was 
much more agreeable than having her as a wife. Mr. 
Sidrac was prodigal of good offices when they were 
needed ; he became one of the most terrible priests in 
England and was more convinced than ever that fatality 
governs everything in this world. 




MAR 1 4 ms